


Hell Bent

by NiwaEngland



Series: Hell Wins [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale in Hell, Confinement, Heaven lost, Heavy Angst, Hell won, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Possessive Crowley, Post-Apocalypse, Sequel to Hell Wins, Top Crowley (Good Omens), Welcome to the End Times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2020-07-22 23:47:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20000473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NiwaEngland/pseuds/NiwaEngland
Summary: The Sequel to Hell Wins.Aziraphale looked at him, through him."Then why? I don't understand it, Crowley. I cannot comprehend this."Crowley considered the question carefully. Weighing up the pros and cons."I want you to Fall."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Alrighty, down, down, way down we go. There will be more to come. I'm on Tumblr, same username. You'll find me there. Procrastinating. 
> 
> To all those who wanted more, to the newcomers who are curious. 

* * *

_"Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch'intrate."_

_" **Abandon all hope** , **ye who enter here**."_

* * *

_"We will win, of course."_

_"You really believe that?"_

_"Obviously. Heaven will finally triumph over Hell.  
__I_ _t's all going to be rather lovely."_

Aziraphale woke with a start. Pulling the flimsy excuse for a blanket around him himself as he sat up and surveyed his surroundings. Still, most definitely, in a cage of Crowley's design. One couldn't simply go wandering about Hell. That had been half of his excuse, the other Aziraphale had decided was best not to think about. 

The cage resembled one in which a bird would be kept, quite a lovely contraption, gilded veins of dusted gold ran through bone-white bars. A large dome loomed above, giving an impressive height and a decent space in which to pace. And Aziraphale did so often pace.

Crowley had even called him a canary. The demon's sense of humour was baffling, bizarre. Aziraphale didn't understand it.

He didn't understand a lot of things. 

Heart beating hard Aziraphale pressed the tips of his fingers over his eyes. He felt tired and yet he had never needed to sleep before. It could be worse but then again it could also be bucket loads of better.

Heaven had been intimidating and corporal. Hell, well it was full of flashes. Fear, wickedness, despair. A constant factor. Not in any particular order of course. Discord was everything.   
  
Sighing a deep, unhappy sound Aziraphale stretched. His limbs stiff and heavy, the floor uncomfortable. He attempted to tame his hair which had been sticking out at odd angles for ages. He even wiped at his face, finding it damp and dirty.   
  
Out of everything that happened his mind still jumped back to that moment in St James Park. When they had talked about the war without thought, without consequence. Because it was never meant to actually happen. Now that was gone. A lost era. A frozen time where Aziraphale was confident and Crowley was still Crowley. 

It was impossible to say how long he'd been in Hell. Crowley refused to answer time-based questions, or any questions really. Eternal damnation and all that, Aziraphale supposed. But he continued to lament over how he had been stolen. Snatched, rather rudely from the world above.

Crowley had become Hades, Aziraphale Persephone. Aziraphale had recalled the myth almost immediately upon waking up in Hell. How could he not, he could hardly cope with the rotten reality. 

In the quietest of moments, Aziraphale understood how such a tragedy for one being could be the triumph of another. He even compared himself to Dante, living out The Divine Comedy. But then what level of Hell was he on? Crowley's or his own?

Aziraphale's unhappy thoughts broke instantly as the door to the chambers in which he was imprisoned burst opened. Crowley came swaggering in. Smiling brightly. A skip in his step. "Good morning angel, sleep well?"

Aziraphale said nothing, merely moving to shift himself further from the bars nearest the demon, lest Crowley attempt to pet him. Yet again. 

"You're still upset. Is it about the cage?" Crowley started to circle, inspecting it. Watching Aziraphale like an attraction. There were no walls, just bars all around the circular structure. "You don't like it."

He stopped abruptly. "Is it the colour?" It could have been the colour, Crowley had made it more to compliment Aziraphale. All of his subtle, softer shades.  
  
"No," Crowley concluded quickly, shaking his head. "This is about something else," his yellow eyes narrowed behind his tinted shades. Whatever was going on inside Aziraphale's mind he wanted to know.  
Past all the pleas and bargaining nonsense. Beyond the blah, blah, blah. 

"I know that things got a bit crazy before. That _technically_ I kind of kidnapped you. But it's for your own good, you just don't know it yet." Crowley stood there, still looking like his old self. Devilishly handsome and convincingly charming.

"It's not my fault that the world ended. Your lot lost, my lot won. It's as simple as that. You finally took the escalator down instead of up, can't be that big of a difference."

He stepped closer to the bars as Aziraphale stiffened. "I haven't touched you since that night."  
  
Aziraphale glared in the gloom. "Yes. But you did."

"Ah-ha!" Crowley grinned, gripping the cold bars between his fingers.  
"He speaks. Are we finally done with the _sullen_ silence? Didn't I say that I was sorry? That I got," Crowley made a frantic waving gesture.  
"Carried away."

He snapped his fingers. "That's it. Shit happens. Especially down here. It doesn't need to to be like this. Things don't have to be difficult."

Crowley moved slowly, subtly stroking the bars. Up and down. "We've wasted so much time already. We could just skip all the drama. It's still about us Aziraphale, you and me against it all. If you would just get over it already and-"

"Get over it?" Aziraphale all but growled.  
  
"You honestly think that I'd _forgive_ you?" He fisted the blanket that Crowley had given him. Fingers white with effort.

"After everything that's happened? I'm still in a cage Crowley. You are not sorry. Not at all. This isn't right, it's terribly wrong."

"Humans have been doing this to each other for centuries angel. You'll adapt."

Aziraphale was aghast. "How can you say such a thing? Who are you now Crowley? A Commander? A General? Are you the King of Hell? It doesn't matter a jot, not to me. You have never been lesser than you are right now."

That gave Crowley cause to stop and scowl. His confidence tripped. It was true, Aziraphale didn't look at him the same way. He'd gained respect from everyone but lost it where it had once always burned bright.

He swallowed, hard. "It was the end of everything. You weren't even there and I made my choice."

"Yes, _your_ choice." Aziraphale pressed. "It's not mine. I don't want to be here. I don't even belong here."

"This is the way things are now."

"Rubbish," Aziraphale scoffed. "Nothing gives you the right to- to just take what you want." He glanced determinedly away. "But that's exactly what you did. What you are still doing."

Crowley smirked, he didn't feel bad about it. Any of it. He had won the right after all. Having Aziraphale had been everything he'd ever wanted. Perhaps not how he'd imagined it exactly, give or take a few no's. But Aziraphale would surely come around to carnal desires. True adjustment took time. 

"It wasn't all bad though was it? You certainly enjoyed yourself."

Aziraphale flushed red, embarrassed and outraged. "That was your fault! Because you- well you know what you did. Oh, whatever is the point of this? I can't win. Just stay away from me. Foul fiend. You bloody _serpent_."   
  
Crowley was hopeful that the next word Aziraphale used would be bastard. Because that would be glorious.   
  
"We aren't friends anymore. It's over."

He frowned comically as Aziraphale prattled on. "I would have never thought you capable of this. It's like you've taken leave of your senses, lost yourself entirely."

Crowley laughed. Apparently, Aziraphale didn't know where he was or who he was with. "Demon."

Aziraphale blinked, "I beg your pardon?"

"I'm a demon. In fact, around here I am pretty much thee' demon."

"That's your excuse?" Aziraphale let out a breathless noise. Staring. "Really? That doesn't condemn you outright."

"That exactly what it does," Crowley hissed. "Don't be stupid Aziraphale. Don't be so naive."

"I didn't condemn you."  
  
"Yeah well," Crowley shrugged. "You're different."

"Different enough to put in a cage." Aziraphale finalised. "It's all about choice, our decisions and our actions. We cannot choose what we are but we can decide who we want to be. " 

Before Crowley could come back Aziraphale continued. "You weren't bad before, not truly. No matter what you say, or... what you do."

Gaze flickering downwards Aziraphale felt himself getting upset. That fatal softness settling itself in once more. He worried his bottom lip before speaking. "I have hope."

"Hope?" Both of Crowley's eyebrows jumped high above his shades. "You have hope, here in Hell?"

Ignoring the warning thunder of his heart Aziraphale got up. Letting his little bit of protection drop to the ground. Leaving the blanket behind he stopped just before the bars. His outfit dull compared to the wicked whiteness of the cage. He fought his desire to reach out. To give into temptation.   
  
"I have hope enough, for both of us."

"Angel that's... you're beautiful," Crowley whispered urgently. Utterly bewitched. Adoring Aziraphale. "Once I would have gotten down on my hands and knees just to see you smile."

"Crowley..."

"But not now." The demon smiled, making an animated expression that was both alarming and attractive.   
  
"Different times."

Aziraphale braved the bars, just an inch from them he reached out. Tentatively placing his hands in Crowley's.   
  
"Dearest look, I can't live like this. Not here in Hell, not in a cage and not in the dark." He gave a squeeze. "I'm fading, I can feel it. Somehow...   
I feel cold."

Crowley's gaze flicked down to their joined hands, Aziraphale couldn't see him looking of course. His eyes were hidden but he could feel the subtle coolness of Aziraphale's alabaster skin. A cold that had no place in the heat of Hell. 

"I'm begging you," Aziraphale began again. Trying not to be so desperate. "Dearest please, please just let me go back."

Crowley held Aziraphale's hands tightly. "Why? There's nothing left up there. Heaven has fallen."

"It's not Heaven that I wish to return to. I want to be back on Earth. There are some survivors, humans that need our help. We could go back together. Set up a network. Start to rebuild." 

Aziraphale smiled wistfully, the memory of what there once was and the possibility of what could be was worth holding on to. It was still worth fighting for. "Think of all the good that we could achieve together."

Slipping his hands down fast Crowley gripped Aziraphale's wrists and yanked him forward into the dividing bars with a clang. "No, no, no." Crowley tutted. "And you were doing so well. You just had to spoil it didn't you?" 

Crowley ran his thumb over the back of Aziraphale's hand. "Now I know what you are thinking, what you want."

Crowley looked at Aziraphale, finding only despair gazing back.   
"You'll never see the sun again."

Aziraphale gasped, speechless as Crowley continued to caress his hand thoughtfully. "I understand angel. I always gave in before, didn't I? Indulged you, spoiled you. It made you feel safe."

Aziraphale managed to snatch his left arm back but the right was at Crowley's mercy. "But you were never really safe." Crowley's grip was crushing. "It was only ever an illusion."

"It wasn't," Aziraphale whispered feverishly. Hanging off of Crowley's words. "I don't believe you."

"I'm not wrapped around your little finger anymore." As the demon twisted his wrist Aziraphale whined with involuntary pain and panic. 

"I didn't mean- Crowley please!" Aziraphale gasped sharply as Crowley increased the pressure. He struggled against the bars. "I'm sorry! It wasn't my intention-"

"Don't lie to me."

"I'm not!"

"Angel."

Aziraphale gave up and screamed. Crowley was half a second away from brutally breaking bone.

"Crowley for Christ's sake stop!"

And the demon did. He let go and Aziraphale stumbled back, tripping and falling to the floor. Wide-eyed and breathing hard. Finally, his wounded words tumbled out into the silence.

"Why are you doing this to me?" Tears dripped down his face. "Why am I here?" Aziraphale's fear was almost tangible, it gave off a lovely sharp scent. 

"I love you," Crowley confessed. Quieter than before. "That's why I waited. All this time, all I ever wanted was you."

Aziraphale looked at him, through him. "Then why? I don't understand it, Crowley. I cannot comprehend this."

Crowley considered the question carefully. Weighing up the pros and cons.

"I want you to Fall."

Aziraphale swallowed hard, smiling nervously because the demon was joking. He had to be jesting.

"Surely not." He shook his head, paling as Crowley remained unmoved. "No. We... we aren't having this conversation."

"We are."

"No. It's what I am. You cannot take that away."

"And yet you don't sound so sure."

Aziraphale cradled his wrist, he didn't heal well down in Hell. Fretting he felt the hot sting of heat in his eyes building once more.

But then a thought burst into bloom.

"Oh," he gasped. "You've already tried."  
  
He stared at Crowley challengingly. Making quick connections. "You thought that forcing coitus would work but it didn't. So now you think that my consent is necessary so that I purger myself. The sin didn't stain me and that's why you haven't approached since." 

He was alive once more, "this cage isn't just to keep me in. It's here to help keep you out."

Aziraphale's eyes burned bright, confident. "You want me to come to you."

Crowley gave a hiss, "s'so _clever_." He gave an elaborate clap. His hands pressing together as if in prayer.

"Maybe I should just ask you all about it hmm? Nobody could be so smart. Share it with me Aziraphale, the secret. Tell me, how does one make an angel Fall?"

Aziraphale tilted his head, speaking soft but steady.   
  
"I really wouldn't know dear. You'd have tell me."

He cringed as Crowley gave a frustrated hiss, hitting the bars like a wild animal. Clawing inside the cage, a thing possessed. 

"You're going to regret that! Do you hear me angel? What I'm gonna do to you isn't going to be pretty. You won't be pretty when I'm through."

"I've never considered myself pretty," Aziraphale admitted. Horrified and yet emboldened by such a reaction.

"It is very likely that no matter what horrors you inflict, what evil you bestow I won't Fall."

Trying to be reasonable Aziraphale was absolutely honest. "I'm not even sure that I can."

He sat perfectly still, staring at Crowley's outstretched limbs that had ceased to snatch at him. To twitch and twist in attempt.

"I know that there is goodness within you. I still believe it is so. Whether you know it or not it is there." 

Aziraphale hesitated. "I don't want to Fall Crowley. If that is your true design then it is destined to fail."

Crowley pulled himself back, furious and bitter. Aziraphale could do unimaginable damage with words. With just a look. Fly, beautiful bastard that he was. Crowley embraced the bile within. 

It really hadn't taken that much for him to Fall. So he hung out with the wrong crowd, he asked some fucking _questions_. Big deal. But did he really deserve it? It wasn't something he could just forget. It burned like a poison that could be creatively dulled but never cured.

In the end, if Crowley was honest with himself, which he wasn't, his Fall was not instantaneous. His dive hadn't changed everything. The demon inside, his worst self was patient. It took centuries to possess him. Loving Aziraphale had held it back but that darkness was still there. It was always there. 

"I'm going to find a way angel and when I do you'll finally understand."

Crowley placed his hand over his heart. "You'll know what this's," he thumped his chest. Digging in his fingertips, "feels like."  
  
With that, he stormed off and slammed the door with finality.  
  
Plunging Aziraphale into darkness and into a torrent of tears. 


	2. Chapter 2

Crowley stormed through empty corridors. Stomping, mumbling and muttering. Why was it all so freaking hard? Wasn't it supposed to get better with Aziraphale around?

The angel was supposed to be his centre point. The one to stop him from... from what exactly? Bouncing off the walls? Going off the rails? Falling just that little bit further?

Apparently old habits died hard. Or rather they didn't die, they defaulted. Accidental damnation was the cost before, a price that had quite literally ripped Crowley from the sky.

But that was then, the world was different now. Only one question mattered.

_How to make Aziraphale Fall?_

He clearly would require more than a motivated shove. Too clever for all that 'come over here the grass is greener' pitch. There was no grass and Aziraphale knew demons the same way Crowley knew angels.

Aziraphale was a puzzle, an enigma. He wanted so little and was content with next to nothing. Home comforts and fancy foods weren't going to do a damn thing. It was a problem, a conundrum if you will.

Did God need to be directly involved? Or could one will themselves into such a dramatic change if the desire was there and the circumstances right?

Maybe it was madness, thinking that if Aziraphale became a demon it would all work out. Partners in crime. That they'd finally be on the same page and perhaps most importantly Aziraphale would be completely free of Heaven. It's persistent influence, it's iron unforgiving grip.

In his drunker moments back on earth Crowley had let himself think about it. Indulge in a fantasy or two. Finally letting the idea spill over one time to Aziraphale.

Even going as far to muse upon what it might have been like if their roles had been reversed altogether. That had been a laugh, right before they had both sobered themselves up.

But now the reality, the possibility was closer. Aziraphale a demon, would he be exactly the same? Little to show for it or would he be something else entirely? Not whites and wispy creams but ashen greys and complimentary charcoals.

Would Aziraphale still be sensitive and soft? Or would he be his bad traits personified? Greedy, spoiled and viciously clever.

Would Aziraphale's eyes still be blue?

Crowley had lost the gold in his own. But he remembered the colour so brightly. In all of Heaven, he was the only one with such eyes, remarkable, luminescent. Pure.

...

They hadn't talked for days. Or some approximation of days. Avoiding Aziraphale was easy and yet the angel pressed upon his mind constantly.  
To make matters worse he received a summons sometime in-between his brooding. A council meeting was taking place. It would be about the war because it was always about the bloody war.

Crowley arrived a little late, defiant but not flat out rebellious. It was a fine line which could occasionally be scrubbed out and redrawn. The doors swung open to accommodate his swaggered pace. Causally he sat down next to Beelzebub.

It had already started and many things were said. It was almost comedic. Hell attempting democracy. Demons of rank thinly vailing personal ambition, offering nasty criticisms and pushing the very stupidest of suggestions. Demonic politics, what a wonderful way to waste eternity.

So Crowley sat there, half out of his seat openly out of his mind. Dreadfully bored.

"Commando'r Crowley." Lord Beelzebub beckoned. She was also hideously bored and making no attempt to hide it. "Any thoughts?"

Crowley swung both his feet onto the ground. He'd lost the thread of the conversation entirely. "Oh, my opinion doesn't matter. It all just sounds the same to me."

Hastur couldn't help but cut crudely in, seizing his moment.  
"You're saying that all of our strategic strategies are the same?"

Crowley threw him a winning smile. Sharp and unfriendly.

"Can't quite hear you from down there Hastur, have to speak up a bit." Leaning back Crowley stifled an outright laugh. Oh, how Hastur hated him and the feeling was mutual.

Hastur's seat, his position was certainly not to the hard right of Beelzebub. Hastur was at the far end of the table, which really did stretch out quite far. It was his own fault, of course, he had ambition but lacked the boldness and brains. He was sat next to Ligur. A demon whose only interest and discernable skill was in killing people.

"We are to use official titles here," Beelzebub cut in. Scowling up a storm. Trying to control her colleagues. Herding water logged cats would be easier. "Do we all agree-" she started loudly. "That the remaining humans should be destroyed?"

Everyone around the table gave their agreement. Because it really wasn't a question. Crowley half-heartedly huffed his consent. The humans weren't a credible threat. They were barely holding on.

Inadvertently his mind drifted to Aziraphale, how much his angel would protest. He'd have other options, ones that weren't so one dimensional. Such a shame how he hung onto his halo. So many angels had swung from theirs.

Beelzebub dismissed the congregation. Crowley didn't stop to chat, he moved past the others as if they weren't even there.

At the best of times, Crowley considered his conscience as an annoyance. Hilarious at worst. Why worry? Aziraphale need never know. The fallout between them was bad enough. He just wouldn't tell him, the meeting was confidential after all.

That was that then.

...

Aziraphale had quite decided that he hated having to wait for Crowley to come around. It was as if he didn't exist in the time in-between visits.

So when Crowley did come wandering in Aziraphale stood in the centre of his cage, arms folded. With his best 'I am very cross' face on. He blinked as Crowley snapped his fingers in a concentrated fashion.

The cage immediately groaned to life. Contracting itself upwards in a repellent display. It hung above, a split ribcage waiting to descend once more.

Aziraphale stayed where he was. Arms still folded, his eyes hooded with uncertainly. Secretly he was ready for a fight. Hopefully one of words. But if needs must.

"Angel, I've had a bad day," Crowley announced. Throwing his 'that was that' theory out on its arse. "I can't begin to tell you how tedious it all is."

Crowley took a step forward, scowling as Aziraphale immediately took one step back. "It's just never-ending." He continued to move and Aziraphale copied in reverse.

"I gave them ideas, told them what to do, how to do it. The war went our way because they listened. They adapted. That's where your lot went wrong. They didn't listen to you at all, did they? I can't help but wonder how much balance your input would have offered. I wonder would it have tipped the scales?"

"We would have found ourselves in direct competition," Aziraphale returned. His arms falling to his side. "I wouldn't have enjoyed it, Crowley. Serving as your foe on Heaven's behalf."

Crowley stilled, Aziraphale copied. "You tried to stop what was inevitable. Even when we went our separate ways you just kept right on trying."

Thinking hard Aziraphale sighed. "What good is war? Was it really just about settling old scores? Deciding who was right, more powerful. Tell me something, Crowley. Do you feel better? Was besting Heaven everything that you dreamed it would be?"

Aziraphale's next words cut right through to Crowley's hapless heart.  
"Did you get what you wanted? Have you finally found peace? Or is that why I'm here?"

Crowley willed himself to move lightning fast. Closing the distance between them in half a second. He shoved at Aziraphale, pushing him back against the wall, giving the angel enough time to save himself from injury.

Crowley crowed close, placing each hand on opposite sides of Aziraphale to box him in. "I'm not at peace, never have been. Probably never will be. I'm unforgivable remember?" His voice dropped. "All I know is that it's quietest when I'm with you."

"A condition of love."

"I suppose so," Crowley grumbled. His fingertips numb because it just wasn't fair.

Aziraphale's grace reached out when his hands would not.  
"Hell isn't good for you. It all feels very wrong here. With or without me why do you insist upon staying?"

"This is home sweet home."

"This isn't home it's a place. We had a home Crowley, in London. My bookshop, your fancy flat. We even had friends, allies. Then the apocalypse began and everything just started happening so fast. We argued and you left. I was conflicted. I didn't know what to do. "

"Don't start that. You're the one who just disappeared. Went dark. I didn't know what the hell had happened. I couldn't even sense you."

Aziraphale refused to look away. "You weren't supposed to."

"Why?"

"I thought it best."

Crowley pressed closer. Intimidating and yet radiating a savage need.   
"Why hide from me?"

"Because-" Aziraphale struggled to place his words. "Because I was afraid." He paused for a long moment. "I happened to see you, once the war had begun. It was a brief moment. Seeing that... changed something. You broke my heart and even now. I find myself utterly incapable of recovering."

Aziraphale worried his bottom lip. Breathing in Crowley's air.  
"Some things just don't heal."

Crowley could hardly breathe. "What did you see?"

"I saw a demon," Aziraphale whispered. "I saw you, Crowley."

Aziraphale closed his eyes as Crowley's hands slid from the wall. The demon's arms wound around him, tight and warm.

Crowley embraced Aziraphale. Melting as the angel tentatively returned the hold. Both holding on so tightly that neither could properly breathe. Safe somewhere in the knowledge that they didn't need to.

Crowley spoke into the skin of Aziraphale's neck. "Stay with me."

Aziraphale blinked his brow lifting and crumpling compulsively.  
"I can't consent to Hell."

Crowley pulled back, staring. "Then just give in a little. Make things easier."

"And if I were to refuse?"

Crowley tried anyway, moving swiftly forward he went to steal a kiss. It was innocent enough and yet he nearly introduced his face with the wall instead. Aziraphale had slipped down suddenly to the ground, his knees folded to his chest.

Righting himself Crowley took a single step back. Scrubbing his hands through his hair. Frustrated. "So that's a no then?"

Aziraphale wrapped his arms around his knees. "I'd really rather not."

"Ah," Crowley nodded stoutly. "Not in the mood, rightie-o. Understood."  
He was sure that he could get the angel in the mood if given half a chance.

Reluctantly they stared at each other.

"Dinner?"

Aziraphale could hardly believe his ears. He expected Crowley to curse, to grab and demand. Maybe even to take. "I'm sorry?"

"Dinner?" Crowley repeated. "Would you at least have dinner with me?" Crowley cast out his hand, offering it to Aziraphale.

Every gear in his head seemed to jam simultaneously. Aziraphale stared at the offered limb as if it were a venomous snake.  
"I don't think I quite understand."

Crowley stood there, not understanding it himself. It was all mixed messages and crossed lines. He was being ridiculous, asking for anything. Demons don't ask they do. They take and they destroy.  
"Please have dinner with me?"

Confused and fractionally afraid Aziraphale placed his right hand into Crowley's. Gasping aloud as he was pulled to his feet, easy as anything.

...

Dinner, as it turned out, was wonderous. Crowley had lead them into a room with actual light. Not daylight, not moonlight. Nothing was natural about it. But the glow was gentle, about them crystals glittered in the shifting shadows of a great cavern.

Crowley had miracle them a table, comfortable chairs. Reproducing a dinner that they had once shared at the Ritz. The food was real and filling. Aziraphale couldn't help but hum in appreciation. How he had missed a nice meal. It was only after he had eaten his fill did he find Crowley staring. The demon had done so before at the Ritz.

However now Crowley continuously drummed his fingers, a crescendo of rhythm. His mind ablaze. He drummed, tapped and shifted endlessly. Providing dinner and a show.

Before he could think better of it Aziraphale defaulted to past habits. "Crowley, are you quite alright?"

The atmosphere around them shifted. It was as if Crowley had suddenly just joined him in the moment. Aziraphale stared pointedly at his plate, folding his hands together in his lap. Wondering why he said such things, knowing that he had inadvertently invited disaster.

Crowley, in turn, fiddled with his sunglasses. Pulling them off altogether to pitch the bridge of his nose. He was frazzled. Fraying at the edges. Stressed.

"I'm fine."

"Perhaps Hell is working you too hard." Aziraphale sat a little straighter. It was meant as a mere observation and yet it sounded cutting. A clear accusation. "Not that I would know anything about that of course."

Suddenly the surrounding cavern was ominous, the crystalline rocks formations sharp. A smattering of dark scales became visible on Crowley's skin, around the edges of his eyes.

"Do you want to?"

Aziraphale found Crowley's eyes, his piercing yellow eyes and was entirely stuck. "Sorry?"

"Do you want to know about it? How Hell works, what I do? What I did? I could tell you about the war. About all the angels I killed. Humans too, anyone that got in the way." Crowley snapped his fingers. "Gone."

Sinking down in his seat Aziraphale closed his eyes miserably. It seemed that every time he reached out Crowley would push back. Metaphorically, the ice beneath his feet was cracking. Consequences were coming.

"Three minutes."

Aziraphale's gaze flickered back up.

"You've got three minutes," Crowley clarified. "Consider it a generous head start."

Aziraphale's heart began to thump. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Run, walk, sit in the corner and cry. Whatever. When times up I'm going to have my wicked willful way with you. Be sure to find a nice quiet spot Aziraphale. Unless of course, you fancy a bit of exhibitionism. I'll have you where I catch you."

Aziraphale stood, the chair making a horrid whine as it tumbled backwards. "Can't we just talk instead?"

"Sure but times-a-tickin'."

"Crowley, please!" Aziraphale balled his fists. "Be reasonable."

Lounging back in his chair Crowley appreciated the sight. Aziraphale was truly a beautiful spectacle. Blue eyes blown wide, that disbelieving parting of loving lips.

"Two and a half minutes."

As Aziraphale stumbled Crowley snorted, throwing his head back he bellowed a laugh as Aziraphale ran from the room.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greetings all, just a heads up that I'll be starting a new job soon so updates will be unpredictable. I intend to finish off what I've started, have no fear. As always kudos and comments are the best forms of encouragement.

Running was not on Aziraphale's agenda, most definitely not on his fun things-to-do list. No. He ran only when he needed to and at this moment he had never moved so far. So fast.

Hell was a labyrinth, winding passageways, odd angles. Twists and turns every third door. There was little light as if all of Hell's occupants had little to no need of it. The only thing stopping total darkness was the strange fixtures of fluorescent bulbs flickering above. 

The first few hallways Aziraphale charged down were empty but soon enough he was stumbling into a crowd. A collective of demons, shuffling about their business with hollow stares and blank expressions. Only a few even registered Aziraphale squeezing by. Cringing, careful, terribly flighty. 

_10\. 9. 8. 7. 6._

Counting down Aziraphale picked up pace. Skidding wildly around one corner then the next. Dividing demons as he went.

_5\. 4. 3. 2. 1._

The three minutes were up.

 _~ Ready or not here I come ~_  
  
"Excuse me! Terribly sorry- could I just? For Heaven's sake MOVE!"

Shoving his final steps to freedom Aziraphale came to a distinctive drop in ground level. The darkness seemed oppressive and unwelcoming. Just that bit too quiet. Regardless of his reservations, Aziraphale slipped down to lower ground. 

A few smatterings of weak light hovered overhead. As they had before, far fewer in number now. The tunnel stretched out ominously in both directions, no doubt opening on to more passageways without so much as a directory sign. The depths of the darkness ahead felt spooky. It looked like every horror film Aziraphale had ever accidentally seen. 

Crowley only needed to be waiting just around the bend wielding a chainsaw and wearing a cheap mask to complete the scene.  
  
Listening intensely for that exact scenario Aziraphale hurried along, left hand pressed to the wall, his right stretched out into the bleakness ahead. Knowing that with the wavering light he could perhaps walk into something that just so happened to breathe right back.   
  
"This is intolerable," Aziraphale mumbled. Cross. Stretching his fingers just that little bit further. 

Perhaps demons could see in the dark. It would make sense. Aziraphale came to a solid, sensible standstill. 

Could Crowley see in the sodding dark? Was he waiting? Was he watching?

Aziraphale recalled how often he and Crowley had walked together in the dead of night. Coming from a late-night concert, a talking picture show. His companion never once removing his sunglasses, never clumsy or uncertain. Crowley hadn't even so much as tripped or missed a single step.  
In over six thousand years.

Crowley could see in the dark. 

Letting himself rest a moment Aziraphale tried not to let fear flood his every sense. It would not do. It would undoubtedly be fatal. 

A sound skipped off the walls, an echo bounced.

"Crowley?" Aziraphale tried primly. Ready to jump a mile high. Trying to pretend that he wasn't afraid and unsure. That he could cope with the game. "We really are a bit too old for all of this..."

There was no right age to play a predatory game of hide and go seek. Trust Crowley to turn a child's game into a fire and brimstone safari. A charter to unknown ends. 

Wind seemed to push itself through the passageways ahead, the odd breeze rushed by. It gave the distorted illusion of voices, even as Aziraphale strained to listen he could find no discernible words, no language or meaning. 

Pushing on Aziraphale berated himself, it was silly to let his imagination take over. Reality was bad enough. In his previous bout of panic (of which more would likely come) he hadn't even managed to catalogue the twists and turns. An opportunity to get some sense of the geographical layout wasted. 

Fractionally more confident that he was alone Aziraphale stole into a shallow alcove. Taking the very deepest of breaths to centre himself. Pushing aside all fear and doubt he blocked out the low thrum of Hell.  
  
Using the same trick he had learned above Aziraphale _suppressed_. Reined in everything angel, all things ethereal. His celestial essence, the typical trademark giveaways of his kind.

Carefully Aziraphale pressed down his grace, tucking it neatly away, following with his aura and scent. Finally, he extinguished his thoughts like a flame. Closed his connection to all else. It took tremendous effort to do so, to disappear entirely was no easy thing. It couldn't last forever but it'd give him the edge. Buy a bit of time.

If someone were to come by him now Aziraphale would appear as nothing more than shade and shadow, able to slip by silently like smoke. Clever enough to confound even Crowley. No amount of demonic ability would work. Crowley wouldn't _couldn't_ sense him now. Hoorah.

Pleasantly pleased Aziraphale smoothed down his attire, adjusting his jacket with real readiness. Just because he didn't do games didn't mean he couldn't play them. For in the bottomless pit, there were plenty of places to hide. 

...

"I've lost him," Crowley said out loud to himself. Walking one way then swinging on his heel and heading another. "I've only gone and actually fucking _lost_ him."

Looking comically around a corner, over the top of his glasses Crowley glared. Flapping his hands in an empty space which had once been occupied by his angel. 

Exactly how Aziraphale, dear sweet, fumbling Aziraphale had managed it was a mystery. Full of surprises, even after all the long years of predictability. What a fucking joke. Eternally crap at magic and yet now able to apparently blink out of existence.

Earth had not been a coincidence, Aziraphale's AWOL status wasn't just down to luck. It was down to smarts, something in which Aziraphale was infinitely blessed.

Fear clawed at Crowley, pried apart at his insides. Perhaps Aziraphale had left altogether. Found the exit and scarpered. Maybe he been snatched or something truly terrible had happened. 

At first, it had all been funny, listening to the angel's footfalls as he dashed away. Crowley hadn't bothered to move when the three minutes were up, instead, he had put his feet up.

No need to end it early. Aziraphale would work himself up. He wasn't going to get far, he'd probably get himself caught and need rescuing. Maybe he'd even be grateful. Most demons would know to mind their own business but if anyone like Hastur was hanging around...

Crowley had slammed his feet to the floor. Frowning enough to create deep lines. Thinking that he really ought to haunt Aziraphale's steps, just to be sensible. Just to be safe.

Then it happened, Aziraphale disappeared. Just like that. Poof! Not even a puff of smoke. One angel. _Gone, gone, gone._  
  
He'd been on a lower level, not all too far. If something had happened Crowley would have sensed it. Surely? He'd have heard the screaming right?

So now Crowley was running around. Utterly insensed. Careful not to actually run past anyone, appearances an all. But fast. He located the very last spot Aziraphale had occupied. An empty space, in an empty corridor. Leading down into the depths. 

...

Lost.

Utterly, hopelessly, embarrassingly lost. That was what Aziraphale was. With the interference of Hell and his own suppressed senses, Aziraphale couldn't tell up from down. There wasn't even a plan. Avoid Crowley and find the exit was as far as his thoughts had cared to suggest. 

So that's what he was doing. Wherever was that exit? He was probably going the wrong way. There had to be reasons why this particular part of Hell was so quiet. Probably not the prime choice to place an exit. Or anything remotely good.

But who was to say that the way out was actually up? The portal, the escalator out could be better concealed further down. Away from the population, it didn't seem all that farfetched. 

Aziraphale had seen the signs of please do not lick the walls.

 _'If I were a demon where would I put the exit?'_ Aziraphale asked himself in the privacy of his own mind. Shaking off the negative implications of even thinking _if I were a demon._

Deciding to chance it Aziraphale spoke aloud, "if I were a demon I'd know the way." He waited, long enough to decide that breaking the depriving silence had been worthwhile. Unmomentous. 

Deflated Aziraphale sank down, not actually sitting down but fashionably close. He scratched his fingers through his hair, attempting to tame his short cream coloured curls. 

Then, much like a flash of love came a flash of _familiar_. Some things could not be entirely repressed. Especially from the other end.

Aziraphale sprang to his feet, _"Gabriel?"_

He brightened. Looking left and right. Focusing on the choice of tremendous tunnels which he had previously thought to ignore. Anxiously he shifted his weight from one foot to another. He waited and waited. Then _it_ came again. The sudden _flash._  
  
"There!"

Taking off he rushed down the largest of opening's, running for a full minute before finding the end and a door. Large hinges, made from materials older than most of Earth's ages. Firm and forboding. 

Heart pounding hard Aziraphale pressed against the door, a quick touch to make sure that it didn't burn. Satisfied he listened. Opening up just a little Aziraphale reached out his grace, blinking twice when nothing came back. 

Still, he was sure that Gabriel was beyond that boundary. Perhaps so defeated, so defiled he could not reach back. 

Steeling himself Aziraphale gave a small weight to his presence once more, wanting to be seen. With that done he twisted the handle and pushed. His expression morphing immediately to stupified.

Gabriel was not chained, bound, beaten or bleeding. He was _lounging._ In a ridiculously luxurious room. Sitting in a plush ugly sort of chair like a lord. With his feet up by a crackling fireplace. Basking in the heat and glow of hellfire.

"Well, that took forever. And I thought that dealing with my lot was bad. Took longer than I expected actually, drink?" He already had the glass in his hand, popping the cork he poured the reddest of wine. A lovely bouquet filled the air.

Finishing he swung the glass out enticingly, glancing over with a satisfied smile. That smile died a dutiful death. 

"Um," Aziraphale clasped his hands, wringing them. He looked behind himself just in case it would somehow clear everything up. 

_"Aziraphale."_

"Yes?" the ex principality jumped. Absolutely confused but still polite.  
"Oh, Gabriel. It's good to see you. I was getting rather lost."

Staring past Aziraphale and his weak attempt at a smile Gabriel glared at the open space. The darkness beyond.

"Shut the door."

"But- my dear fellow. Shouldn't we be running through it?"

"Now Aziraphale!" The walls had ears, the same way in which ducks had ears. 

Aziraphale complied with the order, frowning at his old habit to just jump to it. An irritating itch to obey. When he faced Gabriel again his confidence wavered.

"Gabriel," he started in a very practised way. "I'm finding this all rather confusing. Please understand. We can't stay here." Eyes wide, pale and generously blue Aziraphale fiddled with the hem of his sleeves.   
"It isn't safe."

Gabriel downed the entire glass before setting it down. His eyes never once leaving Aziraphale. "Nothing is safe. Nowhere is safe."

"But _still_ ," Aziraphale insisted. Feeling that he had already lingered too long. 

"Stop doing _that_."

"Doing what?"

"Fidgeting. Acting like a fledgeling."

How the past had any pressing relevance on the present was a bit of a mystery to Aziraphale. Gabriel had always made him terribly uncomfortable and had not been kind in their younger years. Thus the fidgeting. 

It had all started early. Gabriel might have been older, made for a higher purpose but Aziraphale had been the first to start developing wings. Fully formed, bright white, heavy wings. As an Archangel Gabriel had held onto that resentment like a dog with a bone. 

"I don't get what he see's in you."

Aziraphale stiffened, fighting off a frown. "Sorry?"

"I'd heard that you'd been captured, I thought you'd be one of the first to discorporate. Good for you, lasting so long." Gabriel's words were acidic, sharp. "Crowley's keeping you then?"

"As Beelzibub's keeping you." Aziraphale countered, making no expression as Gabriel sneered. They weren't on different levels, not now. They were in the same boat, perhaps just paddling opposite directions. 

Gabriel raked his eyes over Aziraphale, trying to view him in another light. Any light other than the shade of flat out incompetence. Bored because the colour spectrum still surpassed him Gabriel rested his head in his hand.  
"Did you just escape?"

"No, I'm- _well_." There was no good way to explain what was happening. Aziraphale wrung his hands.   
  
"Where are the others? I'm sure that together we could-"

Gabriel puffed an obscene noise. Then he threw back his hand and _laughed._

"How many angels do you think there are?"

"I don't know."

"It's done Aziraphale. We've been wiped out."

Aziraphale couldn't understand it. Any of it. "But not everyone," he tried.  
A nervous smile twitching at the corner of his lips. "Surely some must have survived."

He wasn't asking, he wasn't.  
  
"You're not really looking are you?" Gabriel stared. "You can't sense it?"

Swallowing a large lump in his throat Aziraphale reached out his grace. Not for the radius of Hell, no. Just a few feet in front of him. 

_Oh._

He hadn't exactly sensed an angel before, he had only felt Gabriel.

"Oh dear."

Gabriel rolled his eyes. 

"You've Fallen?"

Clapping Gabriel puffed out his checks instead of using any actual expression. "Didn't think it was even possible did you?"

"But," Aziraphale fought back the overwhelming panic.  
"You're an Archangel!"

Surging up and forward, Gabriel hissed behind his perfect pearl teeth.  
"I survived."

Overcome Aziraphale shrank back. Afraid to ask but desperate to know. "And the others?"

"Those that didn't Fall discorporated. Permanently."

Aziraphale grabbed the nearest furnishing, needing something steady to cling to. "It can't be."

"My advice," Gabriel sneered. Forcing Aziraphale to fumble further back. "Continue to entertain Crowley in whatever way he wants. Whenever he wants. Accept it."

"Accept it? How can you say such a thing? This is wrong, all wrong!" Aziraphale felt dizzy. Everything was spiralling out of control.

"Cant you- haven't you- has there been any contact at all?" Aziraphale could hardly stand to look Gabriel in the eyes. "Can't you contact the Metatron?"

He had tried to himself, on many occasions back on Earth. Once during the war, a few times after. Aziraphale had made the necessary preparations, he had tried to open a gateway. Every time it failed. After the umpteenth time doubt had begun to drift in. "Is there anything left at all?"

Gabriel was silent, the concept which Aziraphale was pushing was difficult. Raw. He didn't know and that doubt had started the descent.  
"We were supposed to win."

Aziraphale felt close to total collapse. "There shouldn't have been a war at all. Just look, _look_ what has happened."

Gabriel grunted, settling back into his chair he glared at the fire. The calm crackling a lull. 

Staring with an instinctual fear at the hellfire Aziraphale bit into his lower lip. No angel would sit so close so easily.

"Are you a demon now?" 

Gabriel glared. "Do I fucking look like one to you sunshine?"

True Gabriel didn't have horns or any distinguishing facial marks or features. But he was different. Aziraphale didn't judge him for that. It couldn't be helped he was sure. "Not exactly. No."

Gabriel scowled, wishing he had even half his power to wield.  
"I don't know what I am."

Aziraphale fidgeted again, "it's not too late."

Gabriel refused to listen. "Of course it is! The damage is done.  
It's irreversible."

A sharp pang stabbed at Aziraphale, it sounded so much like Crowley.  
So quick to condemn, no matter how out of control a circumstance was.  
"I forgive you."

That apparently was the wrong thing to say. Gabriel didn't appreciate it. Never had he ever been so fully filled with the urge to end Aziraphale. 

"They'll take your wings." Gabriel rolled his eyes deliberately over the empty space at Aziraphale's sides. "Thats how it starts."

Standing Gabriel began to muse. Getting into the spirit. "First they'll cut them." He made a snipping movement with his fingers. 

Aziraphale sucked in a breath as Gabriel prowled closer. 

"Then they'll rip them, start to tear. Now that will hurt something _awful_."

"Stop." Aziraphale curled in on himself, sickened. 

"That'll go on for a good while. It gets serious when they start to break the bones. Twist every tendon."

If it was possible to now have an out-of-body experience Aziraphale was having it. He didn't even notice when Gabriel appeared next to him, giving him a hard smack on the back.

"You look worried Aziraphale. It's not all bad. You'll definitely discorporate before it gets to that."

Shrugging Gabriel off Aziraphale wrung his hands together. Terrified. Crowley wouldn't do that, would he? Allow such a hideous thing to happen.

"You're soft." Good of Gabriel to remember that comment and throw it back. "You won't survive down here."

"I don't intend to stay." There was no fight in his words, Aziraphale felt acutely numb.

If an Archangel couldn't overcome such odds then what chance did he have?

"Maybe it is settled between Heaven and Hell," Aziraphale relented. "It would certainly be easier to give in and it would make Crowley very happy."

Aziraphale was unwilling to admit that he loved Crowley aloud. Gabriel already knew. It had been understood long ago, it had lead to a tremendous amount of trouble. "But it wouldn't be _right_. It wouldn't be real."

"Who cares?" Gabriel snapped. Looming large over Aziraphale. 

"I care." Aziraphale decided then and there. "There's nothing else for it.  
I'll have to best Crowley."

Gabriel chocked on a laugh and then burst out into a bluster. Aziraphale waited patiently as his ex superior wiped the tears from his eyes.  
"I have never, ever heard anything as funny as that."

Clapping his hands onto Aziraphale's shoulders Gabriel squeezed.  
"You never were realistic, I love it."

Aziraphale pulled away and headed towards the door.  
"I'm perfectly serious," he said distractedly. Already mapping out numerous battle plans as if he were someone else.

Turning towards his ex superior Aziraphale attempted to tame a thought. "You can be happy here, it's not so very different from where we were before, in the beginning. I really do wish you all the best of luck."

Gabriel could only express himself with a scoff. 

"I know love when I see it," said Aziraphale quietly. With the softest of inflictions. "You've never felt it before, not truly. Not for anyone or anything. But now..." Testing the handle Aziraphale pressed himself against the door. "I do. It's not confused and it's not forced. It's pure."

Gabriel was utterly silent. Backlit by the fire.

"You didn't Fall from grace, you fell in love." Aziraphale smiled sincerely. Finding it just a touch amusing. "Perhaps Beelzebub was worth Falling for."

Anticipating Gabriel's next move Aziraphale swung himself around the door and out. Pulling it shut just as something smashed against it from the other side.

The wine glass.

Another heavy smash.

The bottle. 

Terrible waste that.

Sighing Aziraphale began to move his heavy limbs forward. Reaching out his hands into the gloom once more. He could see his own hands, beginning to glow, ever so softly. His resources spent, sped up by the sheer stress. Aziraphale's sensitivities came rushing back. 

The ethereal glow about him grew, just that little bit brighter. Love was as ineffable as the great plan. Sometimes it withered in wars and other times it bloomed.

With his heart heavier than it was before, Aziraphale ventured further into the darkness of Hell's labyrinth. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greetings, I live! The new job is going well. Very busy and mixed/long hours. My aim is to update once a month but it's a guideline, not a goalpost. So please do bear with me.
> 
> As always your thoughts and support give me wings.

It had been hours. Hours of stress. Hours of insurmountable worry. Crowley didn't exactly have an angel locator. But he had threatened, deducted and deduced. Accosted countless demons. With no luck. No further information. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. 

He walked about sniffing, flicking his tongue out on the odd occasion. Tasting the air. Making faces and then going bleh a lot. Crowley got odd looks. He always did. As if scenting was some kind of saintly sin. As far as demons went Crowley had always been a bit of a mystery. He didn't care. Gave not one single damn. 

"Where in the ever-loving fuck?" He threw himself back in a sulky fashion. Frustrated. He lazed against the red stone walls, his swept styled hair matching the copper overtones nicely. 

As he stuffed his hands into his ridiculously tight trouser pockets the air hummed around him. 

_Aziraphale._

...

"For Heaven's sake," Aziraphale groaned. Glancing around, utterly lost. He had just come through a connecting passage, he'd kept his hand to the wall and yet the rock formations looked familiar. They were the same. Exactly so. 

Aziraphale desperately desired to sit down. To rest, to find some small comfort to collapse into. Such a thing seemed impossible in such an abysmal place. Besides, the ground was _dirty_. 

And he was wearing white, well a mixture of creams and winter tones. Red stains, dark stains, bloodstains. They'd look terribly tacky. Aziraphale worried about the little things, sometimes it was the key to sustainable sanity. 

In the distance, a noise disturbed the hollow silence. Straining to hear it Aziraphale went stark still. Intrigued.

A clattering of footfalls was coming, charging. Ever so fast. Frantic. 

Turning Aziraphale took off down a path he hadn't before, bollocks to the hand to the wall theory. 

...

It felt like minutes yet mere seconds had passed before Crowley seemed to materialise from nowhere. In reality, he had simply stepped out from another tunnel and stopped. Suprised.  
  
Aziraphale skidded, squeaked and stumbled. With one final trip, he went down hard on his hands and knees. In horror, he stared at Crowley's stylish black shoes. Aziraphale scrabbled to stand. Tried to divert. Crowley's hand swung out first and Aziraphale braced for impact.

Instead, wonderfully warm fingers caught his wrist and squeezed.  
  
"Aziraphale?"

"Yes?"

Crowley's fingers curled higher. "I've caught you."

Staring in bewilderment Aziraphale blinked a few times. "So it seems."

Suddenly Crowley rushed forward, his hands roaming everywhere. Undeterred by a surprised, wriggling angel. "What happened? Are you hurt? Where were you!?!"

Aziraphale failed in trying to brush Crowley's creeping fingers away. Trying to make sense of the quickfire questions. As Crowley's fingers messed his hair Aziraphale found it all a bit too much. "Stop that! Please. Really now."

Leaning back at an awkward angle he went on. "There is no need to fuss. I'm fine really. Just tickety boo."

Only Aziraphale would say something like that and Crowley laughed. No longer filled with fear. That gnawing, disgusting dread. 

Embracing Aziraphale Crowley took a deep, deep breath. "I thought I'd lost you."

Completely stiff in Crowley's arms Aziraphale couldn't help but be sarcastic. Refusing to melt against the demons warmth. "That was the game was it not?  
A chase, a glorified fox hunt?"

Pulling back Crowley kept his hands upon the arms of the angel.  
"Come on. It was just a little joke. I'm not riding a horse, blowing a horn and charging after you with Hellhounds."  
  
Crowley gave a wide lopsided smile. Cheeky yet attractive. "Angel, I'm not gonna' tear you apart."

Aziraphale's delicate brow lifted in judgement. "Aren't you? It certainly seemed that way. You were charging in for the kill just a moment ago."

"What?"

"You were chasing me..." Aziraphale's eyes narrowed, turning to look down the path he had run. "Just now? That was you..."

Crowley's yellow eyes peeked over the rims of his shades. "I came from the other direction."

"Oh dear."

They both stopped to listen, picking up the sound again. Far but closing fast.

"For Hell's sake!" Crowley cursed. How could Aziraphale mistake two legs for four? Grabbing Aziraphale's hand he started to run. Pulling his angel right along. 

Following his nose, Crowley pulled them into a series of limestone caverns. The odour of rotten eggs was positively overwhelming. Naturally, Crowley found the most concentrated part. 

Sleeve pressed firmly to his mouth and stuffed to his nose Aziraphale gagged. Tugging at Crowley with indignation. Startled as the demon suddenly stopped and flung him into a dank, gritty little corner. With all kind of things dripping around. 

Aziraphale tried to complain, alarmed as Crowley pressed close and smothered him. A warm hand clamping tightly over his mouth. Not an inch existed between them. There was no escape. Aziraphale's mind blanked. Instinct took over as he shoved and struggled. Attempting to use the wall behind his back as leverage. 

Crowley only crushed closer and Aziraphale gave off a distressed whine. 

"Be quiet, angel. It'll hear us." Crowley's words brushed over his ear. Instant understanding washed over Aziraphale. Dizzy his adrenaline dropped, his legs buckled. He found support in Crowley but no relief.

A blur barged by.

Neither of them breathed. 

And again. 

In the darkness and gloom, it didn't seem to have an exact form. Perhaps it was simply moving too much or far too fast. It went by the third time and did not return.

Aziraphale sensed that the danger had passed when Crowley relaxed against him. Letting out a little puff of air. "That was close."

Twisting out from under Crowley's relaxed hand Aziraphale breathed. "What was that?"

" _That_ was a Hell Hound angel, a nasty one at that. They only put the worst ones down here. The ones that just want to rip everything apart."

"There are more of those here? Just wondering about?"

Crowley didn't answer. 

Guiding them out of the conjoined caverns Crowley refused to fully let go of Aziraphale. His grip remained on the angel's right wrist. Worried that Aziraphale might suddenly dematerialize into thin air. Or kick at him the same way a child would.

"Crowley not so fast. I can't see."

The ground was ridiculously uneven. Almost as if proving his point Aziraphale stumbled.

"It's not safe here, not this far down. It's a miracle that they missed you before." Crowley paused, remembering all the trouble. Why he'd bee so annoyed, so worried before. He turned on Aziraphale, using his height advantage to the fullest. "How did you do it?"

Pulling back as much as the grip would allow Aziraphale played innocent.  
  
"Do what?"

"Disappear."

"I didn't."

"Oh," Crowley nodded. Tounge clicking behind his teeth. "Lying. You're lying now?"

"I ran away, just like you wanted me to."

"I didn't think you'd get this far!"

Aziraphale blinked, his expression hopelessly open. "You set me up to fail. You've caught me. Now what?"

"We get back to the upper levels."

"And then?"

Crowley was confused. "What?"

"What are you going to do with me?"

"What?"

“You said it before.” Intoned Aziraphale. Shifting with nervous tension.  
"You threatened me."

“I threat- ooooh. Oh.” Crowley had quite forgotten. It had been more of a misguided flirtation really. “Oh yes. As soon as we're out of danger.” He gestured wildly between them. “I’ll jump you.”

Aziraphale looked at him. His head tilting. “I’m not sure if you’re being serious.”

“I’m kidding. Obviously.”

“ _Yes_. But you said-”

“Do you want to do it?”

“No!” Aziraphale said aghast. His free hand coming up to place a barrier between them. “ _No_.”

“Fine,” Crowley sulked. Not surprised but saddened still. Would it kill Aziraphale to be just a bit more open-minded? To perhaps flirt back? Crowd him up against a wall? Sure, when pigs flew and Hell fucking froze over.

_Maybe, if Aziraphale was a little more demonic..._

“Crowley.”

The demon slapped his face and sighed. “Yes, angel?”

"Focus."

...

It took another full hour or so of wandering before Aziraphale just _said it_.

"You're lost."

"I'm not."

"But we've been this way twice before and-"

"Shut up!" Crowley's fingers twitched. "Demons don't get lost, we just take alternative routes."

"But _you_ are in fact lost."

"Angel, please."

Falling silent Aziraphale blunged along behind Crowley. Just to make a bit of show of rebellion he tugged his hand a few times. 

Crowley marched them on, distracted. He wasn't looking ahead when he stepped right off the ledge of a canyon. He dropped before he could think. Yet, against all instinct, he didn't pull Aziraphale down. He let go.

"Crowley!"

Slamming to his knees Aziraphale peered down into the void. He reached out into the dark confused. Crowley wasn't rising on his wings. 

Hesitating a moment Aziraphale rose to his feet. Willed his wings to appear and stepped off the ledge himself. He glided down, hands out to steady against the heated updraft. 

Focusing his enegry he forced it to the surface. Illuminating his surroundings. There, way down Crowley clung precariously to a rockface.

Aziraphale slowed to a hover. "Whatever are you doing?"

"Oh you know," Crowley commented vaguely. As if he were not holding on for dear demon life. "Just hanging around."

Aziraphale took in the sight. Fully. "Why?"

When Crowley couldn't come up with an answer Aziraphale grew suspicious.  
"Is something wrong?"

It was the way in which Crowley _looked_ at him that made Aziraphale understand.

"You can't fly."  
  
Faltering in his own flight Aziraphale sighed. "Oh, _Crowley!"_

"Don't start. Please. Now's not the time. There will never be a good time."

Crowley almost lost his grip as Aziraphale embraced him. For a moment it was unmistakably a compassionate hug. Kind and caring. One that he didn't deserve. In the next moment, Aziraphale was coaxing him to let go.

Throat tight Crowley reluctantly squeezed the sharp edges to stay put.

"I'm heavier than I look."

"Don't be ridiculous dear."

Crowley grinned at Aziraphale's default habits. Dear seemed to slip out now and then. "You might drop me."

"I might, I suppose you'll just have to trust me."

Crowley made a rude noise. "I don't need you. I'll... I'll climb up."

Aziraphale beat his wings once and moved back. Giving the demon space. He watched in amusement as Crowley tried to move his right leg and the rocks beneath him gave way. Hissing Crowley swallowed some of his pride.  
"On second thought I'd like to use angel airways."

Humming Aziraphale moved back in, rolling his eyes at Crowley's continued reluctance to let go. With Crowley's back warm against his front Aziraphale savoured the feeling. Smirking he tickled Crowley's sides and caught the demon as he seized up and released. 

As they soared upwards Crowley gripped at Aziraphale's arms. "That was a dirty trick." 

"I was just thinking, what would Crowley do?"

"Funny. So much for my great plan."

"And what plan would that be?"

"Well angel, I was kinda hoping that if I saved you from all this peril you'd be in the mood to _ravish me_."

Crowley shrieked as Aziraphale almost dropped him. It lasted seconds and then his angel's arms were wound around him again. Tight and all-encompassing.

At that moment Crowley remembered was it was to fly. The feeling. The sudden rush of panic then the purest of pleasure. Falling and rising. That instant when the world fell away and everything was right.

Fighting the flush from his face Aziraphale made a series of sounds. Finishing the flight by beating his wings harder Aziraphale lifted them up and over the divide. Landing on the ledge of the canyon with just a little wobble. He slumped against Crowley to catch his breath. A brief moment where he forgot himself and held on. 

Crowley watched that second shatter. As Aziraphale gently let go and stepped back. Uncertainty flickering over his features.

Crowley knew Aziraphale was wondering if he'd done the right thing. If he should have left instead, or simply let go. If he should just give a good hard shove now. 

There were a thousand things that he aught to tell Aziraphale. Things that the angel deserved to hear. Things that were never quite said but always implied. 

"Thanks."

"Oh, you're welcome." Aziraphale frowned at himself, the amiability falling flat.   
"I suppose."

"You're too good," Crowley confessed. "It only makes me want you more, ever since Eden."

Discerning the shock of beguiled blue in Aziraphale's eyes Crowley smiled.  
"You don't see it, do you? How hopeless it all is."

Crowley swallowed hard, tempted to throw himself back into the canyon. In a way, he was forever standing on a ledge, balanced badly between nothingness and Aziraphale.  
  
"I'm yours." He made an animated, pained expression. Utterly raw.  
"Always have been, always will be."

"What do you want Crowley?"

"I want... I want you. I want you to want _me_." He missed off the please, it would have killed him cold. "Was there ever a time, when I stood even the slightest chance?"

_Could you have ever loved me?_

Thinking for a few moments Aziraphale closed the final distance between them. "More than a chance." The barest hint of a deprecating smile appeared. "So much more."

An age seemed to collapse quietly about them. A crumble not a crash.  
  
"I do want you."

As Crowley reached out Aziraphale pulled away. "But not like this. Never like this." Turning back he ended the conversation. He created distance.  
  
"Now how exactly are we going to get out of here? Any idea's?"

Crushed Crowley withdrew his reach as if burned. Inside he was mixed, one side utterly miserable, suffering and screaming. The other furious, dangerous and demanding. Aziraphale's attention was the only antidote. 

Watching the angel fuss over possible paths Crowley did what he knew best. He stood up straighter, took a deep breath. Put aside the hurt, longing and general desperation.

Anthony J. Crowley held back and sauntered onwards. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I was having lunch in St James's Park the other day and was inspired. I'm still as busy as ever and I do tend to write and rewrite everything before posting.
> 
> As ever kudos and comments are substance for the soul. 
> 
> Have a super spooky Halloween!

Aziraphale followed Crowley through the dark. Still tethered together. Not through Crowley's hand around his wrist. No. Crowley's hand now resided comfortably in his own. It was simple and it was strange. Probably wrong, in lots of little, obvious sort of ways. 

Aziraphale couldn't help but wonder. How did he get into these situations? Why were the fates so set upon ruin and misfortune? Before Amadgedon there was a line. In was admittedly sort of in the sand but still black and white. Their tenacious relationship had been the only real grey area. 

Now Crowley's back cut a sharp and familiar outline. An image that had burned itself into Aziraphale's memory like a curse. He hadn't gotten over it. The day Crowley walked away. It all just hit a downward spiral, he lost Crowley and the world literally ended as a result.

Quite rightly to, for it was the same thing in Aziraphale's book of life. Titled and chaptered, things I should have said and didn't, things I should have done but failed to fight for. A sad story, by A.Z Fell. 

Squeezing Crowley's hand Aziraphale grounded himself once more. Conflicted, confused, that weight in his heart didn't lighten. It was leaden and growing in size. But when Crowley squeezed his fingers back it seemed alright. As if it were all a sunset stroll in St James Park, not the underside of Hell, bad and beyond. 

Aziraphale had to physically resist reaching out, to brush his fingers along Crowley's back. What of his wings? Whatever was there Crowley concealed it well. Everything as ever was about airs, perfect personas and daring demeanour. To the eye, Crowley looked as he ever did, handsome, distracted and just a little bit dangerous. 

"You'd think someone would have put up a sign," Crowley complained. Scowling heavily at the endless options, the tucked in tunnels and wide open nowheres. 

"I mean the lift has to be around here somewhere."

Aziraphale inhaled sharply. "Sorry?"

"I said the lift has to be right around here somewhere..."

"There's a lift?" Aziraphale repeated ponderously. "One with buttons that you push to go up or down?" 

"Clever things lifts."

"But- _here?"_

Crowley stopped, turning to regard Aziraphale. "How else would we get around?"

"Satanic powers, spiral stairs. Untoward sort of things."

Crowley cackled. "It's not all fire and brimstone, don't think you spent much time sitting on a cloud playing a bloody harp." 

Now in Aziraphale's mind demons moved about through the ether of the earth more easily than angels. It wasn't strictly true, angels just didn't do it. Going up was not the same as dropping down. The dynamics of ascending and descending were as different as night and day. Nobody really bothered with it.

With his ears turning a touch pink Aziraphale brushed past the subject.  
"Well, we best find it then."

...

Crowley continued on with intense paranoia, unlike Aziraphale he knew some of the wild and weird things that Hell forget. That Hell _tried_ to forget. Things so fundamentally bad that they gave demons nightmares. 

Every so often he'd turn to see Aziraphale, a reassurance. His angelic lucky charm. Sporting a funny expression. The angel couldn't see him looking in the dark parts. Aziraphale's soft features were pinched, a general kind of fretting which was far from unusual and yet...

"If you have something to say just say it."

Aziraphale hummed flatly, his inner mind still ticking like clockwork.  
"What would you have me say?"

"I can feel you judging me. It's not all my fault."

"Not your fault?" Aziraphale almost laughed. Fully engaged. "Nothing is ever really your fault Crowley. You are an unwilling participant in all of this after all."

Crowley stopped mid-step, somewhat stupified. Aziraphale was rarely sharp with him, never completely condemning. 

"It most certainly is your fault." Aziraphale continued on incensed. "If you simply stopped to think about what you're doing- have you? Has doubt never crossed your mind? What about guilt? Or wrongdoing? We're here right now by your design. I was happy in my bookshop, it wasn't much but I was getting by.  
I didn't want to be kidnapped by the one person I trusted above all else!  
I don't want to be here Crowley. Not in this horrible place. I would never have chosen this-"

Aziraphale drew a breath, suppressing the rising rush of negativity within. Before it burned brighter. With shouting, screaming and ugly sobbing to accompany it all. "If nothing else dinner could have ended reasonably."

Crowley couldn't come up with anything to say, his brain was flatlining in a spectacular fashion. Because Aziraphale was _right_ , Aziraphale was _wrong_. Aziraphale was-  
  
"Just lead the way."

"I am," Crowley snapped. Free of the loop. Instantly frustrated. An emotion he could roll with. "It's not as easy as it looks."

Rolling his stormy eyes Aziraphale fell into thought again. Biting off what would be a rather ugly disagreement at best.

Perhaps he really had wasted an opportunity. He should have let go. It would have been blindingly easy. Right in flight, to indulge that urge, that _itch_ to rebel. Let Crowley plummet on useless wings. 

_It would have served him right._

Aziraphale cringed, worrying his bottom lip tightly between his teeth. He didn't have thoughts like that. Not exactly, not ever. Not once had he ever truly thought something like that about Crowley. Oh, he'd been terribly annoyed with the demon. That was undeniable. But entertaining murderous thoughts? No. That was a first and it was most unwelcome. Someone had to stay good. 

Crowley wasn't as famously bad as he pretended to be. That was the thing, a thing. It was a well-known fact that Demons didn't feel love, didn't know it, want it or even have the capacity to understand it. And yet low and behold it was there. In the early days of humanity, before love had even become fashionable Crowley had coined it. A demon that felt love, for an angel no less. It was there and it was _real._

It rather changed everything. For one it had given Aziraphale cause to pull back. To maintain a respectable distance. Just the occasional temptation... lunch, dinner, drinking enough to forget for a moment about the whole concept of opposite sides.

Nevermind the sixties and the whole _'you go too fast for me'_ fiasco. Bolder than a bloody sonnet that was. 

Now things had shifted yet again. For when they had landed on the ledge together Aziraphale had to take a physical step back. Not because he was afraid of Crowley or putting on a show of resistance or respectability. In those few fraught seconds, Crowley wasn't safe _from him._

Deeply distressed Aziraphale stared daggers into the back of that red demonic do.

_It really is all your fault._

...

"Fucking finally!" Crowley let go of Aziraphale to throw his arms up in the air mimicking a touchdown. He also used the opportunity to stretch precariously. 

The lift lay just ahead. Looking decisively normal amongst the brimstone and decorative char. 

It took the angel a few moments to catch on, another to actually see it. "Oh!" Aziraphale chirped. Happy to leave his darkening thoughts behind.  
  
"I almost didn't believe it existed."

Crowley snorted, marching onwards out of the last passage only to stop dead. Aziraphale close behind bumped right into him. "Well really. What sense is there in stopping just like that?"

Stepping around the demon rubbing his nose which had been so rudely bumped Aziraphale complained. "It's terribly dark Crowley."

Crowley, however, didn't move muscle. Didn't draw a breath. Catching a chance chill Aziraphale grew suspicious. "Crowley?"

Following the general direction of the demon's sight, Aziraphale peered perceptively into the dark. Titling up just a little on his toes. "Is something amiss?"

"You don't... see it?"

Aziraphale turned back and stared at Crowley. Feeling warm shaking fingers catching his. "See what?"

Crowley didn't blink, he didn't even habitually breath. Instead, he stayed frozen. His expression haunted.

Gazing up into the impenetrable dark Aziraphale felt ice blossom in his blood. His left hand came up to curl around Crowley's arm. His blue eyes searching a ceiling vacant of stars.   
  
"It's just the shadows," Aziraphale assured. Wanting to believe himself.  
"Crowley there isn't anything there."

Getting only heavy silence Aziraphale succumbed to frustration and budding fear. Concentrating his grace he reached out.

Crowley cut him off with a hiss. "Don't."

"But- then there is something there?"

"Oh. It's there."

"What?" Aziraphale huffed, wildly on edge. "What is there?"

If something could render Crowley speechless then it was not at all a good thing. Aziraphale concentrated, sensing only a sharp spike of demonic emotion. Erratic and potent. He could taste the copper of Crowley's fear just the same as if it were blood. 

Desiring the light more than ever Aziraphale produced a glow. Soft and simple. Holding it up in a kind of gestured he hoped to dispell any illusion or doubt. Then, for just a short second the low slung shadows above them _moved._

Aziraphale almost screamed as Crowley's hand came to crush over his own again. " _Aziraphale!"_ The demon warned. _"Don't."_

Blinking wide Aziraphale steadied himself and searched the abyss above. Trying to be sensible. "Crowley," he half hissed through painfully clenched teeth. Bordering slight hysterics. "I really don't see anything. Perhaps we are just getting a bit carried away?"

And yet behind dark glass Crowley's eyes tracked _something._

Aziraphale shivered. It started small then took a violent turn. It was getting colder. He jerked as he heard a series of sounds, terribly quite. Disturbing close. 

A series of little clicks. Sudden, jittery little snaps. Something between brittle bones and sharp teeth. Chattering in eager anticipation. 

"What is it?" Aziraphale pleaded. Plastering to Crowley's side. "I can hear it now."

Crowley shuddered, repulsed. Absolutely transfixed with terror.

"Crowley! Tell me what it is!"

"I-I don't know. It's the same."

"The _same_?"

"I've seen it before. Back when I was..." Crowley trailed off, lost in his thoughts. One too many past traumas. They really were piling up.  
"I got in trouble."

Aziraphale's colour drained altogether. "I don't understand."

"You wanted to know why I can't fly."

"Is now really the appropriate moment?" Aziraphale cut in. Wanting to be compassionate yet so very pressed. Barely holding together. 

"It was a punishment."

Aziraphale tore his eyes away from the dark. More afraid than he had been before. There had been consequences for Crowley after all. More damage and fallout that birthed a thousand questions. Maybe it made more sense.

"I had to survive down here for a decade or two. Trying to stop Armageddon, fraternising with you. It pissed a lot of people off. Had to prove myself." 

Aziraphale swallowed hard. "Dear boy, I had no idea. Why didn't you tell me?"

"It doesn't matter."

It did in fact matter. Sensing the demon was at a loss Aziraphale softened.  
"Well, things are different now. You're not down here alone again, I'm right beside you." 

Fear slipping free Crowley gave a humorous, tight laugh. "Angel, it's not looking at me."

An electric energy-charged the air. Tugging insistently at Crowley's sleeve Aziraphale tried to rouse him. "Let's keep moving then, we'll be fine if we just keep moving."

"Can't."

"What do you mean we can't, we have to."

"It's waiting."

Aziraphale's stomach dropped. Again he looked into the blank space above. Desperate to see something. Anything. "Why can't I see it?"

"You're not like me." The statement hung in the air between them. The darkness pressed in.

"Eight legs," Crowley described tonelessly. "Fangs, elongated jaw. Silver fur between the spines. Dozens of eyes, no pupils, no lids. Real big."

Aziraphale swallowed dryly, perhaps it was best he couldn't see it. But he could now hear the insistent _hissing_. "What should we do?"

Crowley shook his head hopelessly. His being so disturbing still. A statue with an upturned face. Caught in primeval horror. "It's hungry. Everything down here is always hungry."

Anxious Aziraphale raised his hand again, forcing more light to flood out. He gasped as Crowley snatched his wrist and pulled down. "Don't do that, it doesn't like the light."

Fussing in Crowley's grip Aziraphale tried to free himself. "Then let me use it!"

"It'll kill you."

"I was a principality! Did you not see my flaming sword?" Aziraphale tried to pry Crowley's fingers from him. "I can do this. I can protect us."

Aziraphale stumbled as Crowley pulled him desperately close. He could only imagine how wide those yellow serpentine eyes were. Always hidden away to mask any emotion. That shield was shattering.

"It's alright." Aziraphale soothed, projecting warmth when he had next to none. "Everything is going to be absolutely fine."

Crowley almost found humour in Aziraphale's goodness. Because it was bullshit. Beautiful, much appreciated, bullshit. 

"It's perfectly alright to be afraid." Aziraphale rambled on aimlessly. "Heaven knows I am, have been for quite some time. But we really do have to make a move. Thats the way up. Should we try looking for another?"

"No." 

With his free hand, Aziraphale stepped around and cupped Crowley's cheek.  
"Stay with me. Think. You can see what I can't. Be my eyes." Smiling Aziraphale radiated a complicated conviction.  
  
"Together. I'm sure we can manage it."

Crowley finally tore his eyes away and _looked_ at Aziraphale. Somehow he loved him all the more. It seemed such a crime that someone so bright was with him in the deepest dark.

"On the count of three angel, you hit it with every bit of energy you've got. It won't stop it but it will hurt it. Make it think twice. That might be enough."

"And then?"

"We run like fuck."

Reaching up Crowley pulled his sunglasses free. Flipping them closed he pocketed them and steeled himself. Slipping their hands together again Crowley held up their bond. Dirty, strained but solid as a rock.

"Don't let go."

"Oh," Aziraphale rolled his luminous eyes. "I wouldn't dream of it."


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seasons greetings, it's been a while. I've been busy and a funny thing happened when the draft I was working on got deleted. Devastating, my own fault. So I've had to rewrite everything. But here it is and just in time for Christmas.
> 
> P.S If you enjoy the highly entertaining pairing of Aro Volturi/Peter Vincent (Twilight/Fright Night) be sure to give my short story (Shining, Shimmering, Stupid) a read.

It was a smash hit.

The creature had tumbled with an ear-piercing screech of fury. Fury was rather the problem, it was more irritated than hurt and it showed. 

Crowley didn't wait, he started into a dead run. Pulling Aziraphale along. 

"Great plan! Show me a great plan." Crowley swung around a bend. Feeling a telltale strain in their interlinked hands. "Keep up angel."

Aziraphale tried, he tried to keep pace with Crowley's ridiculously long legs. It was almost a relief when he tripped on something sharp sticking up. The motion yanked the demon back and they slammed awkwardly together. Crowley hissed on his knees. "We don't have time for this."

Gulping air like a dying man Aziraphale attempted to agree. "I'm bleeding."

Crowley swung around to see, almost slapping himself out of frustration. Really ready to scream. Aziraphale would not be getting up in a hurry. "Is it broken?"

Aziraphale frowned, scrunching his nose in distaste. "Oh, I don't think so. A bit twisted perhaps."

"And bloody," Crowley muttered. Glaring at the gash. With a heavy sigh, Crowley righted himself, reached down and pulled Aziraphale up. Using the momentum to throw the angel over his left shoulder. With gritted teeth, Crowley started to run.

"Crowley!?!" Aziraphale kicked out, regretting it immediately. He grabbed at his head to try and stop the violent bouncing. "Put me down!"

"Bad idea."

"But you can't-"

"There's no other option!" 

"You cannot keep running forever." Aziraphale fumbled, holding on for dear life. As they flew over a cavern in the ground Aziraphale was instantly inspired. 

"Give me your glasses!"

"What? Why?"

"Just do it," twisting as best he could Aziraphale felt a rush of satisfaction as Crowley complied despite not knowing why. Aziraphale put them on and gasped. "I can see it. Tell me when we get to another opening in the earth, it'll have to be rather big."

Crowley flashed a smile, he didn't just like the plan. He loved it. 

...

"Coming up in three, two, one."

Crowley felt the buzz of electricity in the air as Aziraphale forced out his grace in one big go. Undeniably depleted from before. Angels always seemed to smell like static, the coming of a storm. He heard the creature howl and turned with a skid to see it disappear into darker depths. 

Excited and terrified Crowley plopped Aziraphale down, careful to not exacerbate the bloody wound. Rushing back Crowley threw his hands up and snapped his fingers. The ceiling began to groan and crack, a tremendous symphony of sound. Breaking apart in mighty cascade boulders plummeted. Within seconds the rocks caught and began to block the opening below. Silencing the dying scream of a thing with no name.

Crowley tumbled back with a whistle. Blinking in surprise as arms caught his fall. Laughing the demon struggled to stand, clapping his angel on the arm. Aziraphale offered an odd smile before his face blanked entirely. He dropped, Crowley crumbled to catch and they both ended up of the unforgiving ground. 

...

Patience was not one of Crowley's virtues. It hadn't been that long since he had hefted Aziraphale up into his arms and dragged himself over to the lift. Exhausted Crowley cleaned up what he could, finding that snapping his fingers caused little more than sparks.

Aziraphale hadn't woken up and he hadn't quite healed. Crowley estimated that approximately three days had gone by and he was worried. He didn't feel great, incredibly drained demonically speaking. Crowley was tired but unable to settle. 

He'd been brooding by the angles side when a loud, presumptuous knock boomed in the silence. 

Roused from thought Crowley scowled and then he waited. The knock came again, distant. Thoroughly irked Crowley glanced over Aziraphale before marching off through the connected rooms of his domain. Snatching at the door handle with uncontained hate he hissed. 

Opening the door was a mistake. Mood fiercely worsened Crowley made a snap decision and stepped over the threshold. Shutting the door behind him.   
  
Hastur and Ligur lingered, their faces unkind. Set in a general distaste that came from familiarity in Hell.  
  
"What?"  
  
Hastur smiled, his head tilting at an unnatural angle. "Is it a bad time Crowley?"  
  
"Obviously," Crowley hissed. "I happen to have an angel in my bed. I'm busy."  
  
Ligur's face caved in on itself. "That's disgusting that is."  
  
"Some of us like to have bed partners that bathe." Leaning against the door Crowley eased into a nonchalant stance. "Don't knock it till you try it."  
  
"I don't like angels," Ligur voiced aloud. His fire ringed eyes glancing up as the lizard on his head moved.  
  
"But I do."  
  
Crowley's head snapped to Hastur, who was unmistakenly looking at the door as if he could see right past it. He smiled in a nasty sort of way, Crowley's skin prickled. "Get your own."  
  
"There aren't any left."  
  
"Too bad," Crowley snapped. "You killed yours."  
  
Hastur shrugged. His black eyes vacant. "They were soldiers. Disobedient. Loud and boring. Not like _Aziraphale._ "

Crowley thrust his arm over the length of the door. Grabbing the frame to stop himself from trying to choke Hastur with his bare hands.

"You see Crowley," Hastur explained. "It gives off a kind of scent. Neglect, fear, vulnerability." Hastur sniffed the air, savouring it as if he were tasting a fine wine. "It reeks."

"Aziraphale isn't weak." Crowley defended, marginally insulted. "Aziraphale is-"

"I wasn't talking about the angel."

Ligur laughed in a snort, leaning forward he sniffed crudely at Crowley. "Smells... soft."

Crowley didn't breathe, keeping his scowl in place and his posture confident. His blood, however, ran utterly cold. 

"The Dark Council has been hearing things, odd things."

Baring his teeth Crowley's eyes flashed. "I don't care about idle gossip."  
  
Ligur shifted on his feet, looking at Hastur with uncertainty. He was marginally afraid of Crowley. A lesson in holy water was not soon forgotten. Not even after a hundred years or so.   
  
"It's just a friendly caution Crowley, no need to get so upset."

The rock beneath Crowley's fingers began to smoulder and burn. Hastur smiled, lifting his head to emphasis his height. Ordinarily, he towered over Crowley, now he loomed. "We do not fight amongst ourselves, we are the fallen."

"Then fuck off."  
  
Hastur took a step back and shrugged his shoulders. As if he were the reasonable one. As if he hadn't brutally tortured and murdered any of the angles who had ended up in Hell.

Crowley remembered the screaming, coming up form the lower levels. How horrified he was by it and how he would lie awake for the longest of times. In those very early days, after the War. Still so afraid and unsure. Glad that Aziraphale was in the wind and alive. A world away from the hurt and horrors of Hell. Safe somewhere.

Watching Hastur leave Crowley couldn't stop the old memories. When he was so grateful that it wasn't him, down there screaming in the dark. 

Silently Hastur drifted into the next passage. Ligur trailing behind. Making idle, somewhat threatening comments all the while.  
  
Crowley swallowed hard. Fighting off the promise of panic and the hint of tears. If it wasn't Aziraphale's scent that was wavering then the issue had just jumped from a problem to a death sentence. In a haze, Crowley went back inside and shut the door, locked everything that he could and almost prayed. Catching himself before he defaulted to something so silly. Desperation would bleed into his being if he let it.

As he made his way back to Aziraphale he considered doing some damage control. Turning up to the next meeting and ripping out Hastur's spinal cord. Setting Ligur on fire. Or maybe both, if time permitted. He couldn't be weak, they couldn't catch on.

Entering his room Crowley stared at Aziraphale, asleep on the bed. Needing to be close Crowley collapsed next to his angel, a fall so much smaller than the one he'd done so long ago. 

...

Aziraphale awoke to the sensation of warmth. Surrounded by softness, opening his eyes he adjusted to the low light and heard the faint calming crackle of a nearby fire. A snore made him blink, to his right there was a lump. Something had rolled itself into the covers and cocooned.   
  
Crowley.

Annoyed Aziraphale turned away for a moment. Still adjusting he breathed deeply and then frowned. There was something _distinct_ in the air. To describe it would be to define the taste or sound of colour but it was there all the same. He turned to Crowley and then a little embarrassed leaned down and gave a simple sniff. 

"Oh."

Angels didn't have the same ability to scent things the way in which a demon would or could. But even Aziraphale could pick up a change in Crowley. Still a demon, obviously. There was no undoing that, not exactly. Devine judgement an all but he didn't smell evil. Not at all, not even in the slightest. 

Crowley stirred, cracking open a yellow eye to peer upwards. "What?"

Aziraphale pressed his lips into a straight line. "Nothing."

Stretching out of sleep Crowley pushed up onto his elbows. "I think we need a change of pace. Small holiday. Alpha Centauri is nice this time of year."

Aziraphale had absolutely no idea what time of the year it was. Somewhere around Christmas perhaps. The words Alpha Centauri had become a Crowley code, it seemed to be what he would say when he was in trouble. When they were both very close to disaster. 

"Is something wrong?"

"What?" Crowley sat up, running his fingers through his red hair. Not fashion conscious but unsettled. "No. Of course not. I'm going to be running things around here soon enough. I just thought that a change of scenery would be... good. I'll go anywhere."

With a great deal of patience, Aziraphale blinked his blue eyes. "Anywhere?"

Crowley nodded, "wherever you want to go. We'll go." He was sure Aziraphale would ask for his book shop, in the past it was the only place that the angel had claimed as his own. The last sacred place Earth had to offer. 

"Take us to Tadfield."


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A slightly shorter chapter than normal. As always kudos, comments and support are the best kinds of encouragement ♡

Crowley didn't like Adam. 

It wasn't his first thought. Or his second or even his ominous third. The world was meant to be an apocalyptic ruin. Full of smouldering somethings. With rains of ash and fires pouring from pits that never closed. Tadfeild wasn't supposed to exist at all. It was off the map. An unremarkable creator in the ground. Gone and forgotten. 

At least that is what the reports said. Apparently the powers of concealment belonged to more than Aziraphale. 

Sneaking out of Hell hadn't been all that hard, going back was going to be a bit of a bitch. But when was that ever really a deterrent? The rebellious would rebel, just in smaller ways.

Adam had been the first to appear when the two of them arrived. Aziraphale anxious but pleased at the prosperous greenery growing all around them. Absolutely relieved to Crowley's horror as the Antichrist pounded the pavement towards them.

"Angel we-"

"It's alright," Aziraphale assured. Moving out to meet the boy, leaving Crowley to fumble behind. 

Adam Young threw his arms around the angel and Crowley gawked. His mouth opening and closing, not managing to get a single syllable out. He boggled as Aziraphale returned the hug with sincere and gentle affection. "My goodness! How you've grown."

Adam pulled back, his delight fading as he stared at Crowley. Through Crowley. As if he could see everything that ever was, that would come to be. As if all of Crowley's demonic doing had somehow spelt _'disaster'_ on his forehead.

The Antichrist had his number. Three other children charged the ground between them. Crowley swallowed hard. Not a minute in and he was public enemy number one. 

"He's a demon," Adam said.

The three children, two boys and a girl readied their makeshift weapons. Silly little gadgets filled with very real holy water.

"And a friend," Aziraphale soothed. With one stern look, the children let their weapons lower. Adults were beginning to gather around, some armed, some merely anxious. Crowley recognised the young American woman who slid her way through the crowd. She'd hit his car with her bike before the end came about. The memory sparked a pang of longing through Crowley. He had loved that car. 

"Where have you been? We couldn't sense you." Adam gestured to Anathema, "you just disappeared. I thought that maybe someone had kill-"

"Nothing like that dear boy. There was just something very important that I had to do, it was very sudden and there was no time to say goodbye." Aziraphale smiled, covering for Crowley completely. "Nevermind. I'm here now."

"And him?" 

"He's here too." 

Crowley was silent as Aziraphale moved around and greeted the humans. Creating a sense of ease in the atmosphere of uncertainty. Clearly some of them he knew, shaking hands heartily. Crowley stood well back, he didn't dare move. It wasn't just the children who carried holy water about their person. The entire town seemed to armed and ready.

When they had a brief moment to themselves strolling through lower Tadfield Crowley didn't have to ask.

"We both have our secrets," Aziraphale began. "I'm not sorry for keeping this from you. Their lives depended on discretion." 

"Hell's been looking high and low for the last pockets of mankind."

Aziraphale stopped, gaining Crowley's eye. "They'll have to keep looking then won't they." It wasn't a question. Everything about the angel in that moment pressed importance. On a matter of life and death, he would not be moved. 

"I wanted to tell you. Back in the beginning when it was all going terribly wrong. I didn't know what to do and Heaven was of no help. I wanted nothing more than to talk everything through with you but we were... well we were-"

"On opposite sides," Crowley finished easily. Lacking judgement. "I get it."

"Are we still?"

It was Crowley's turn to stop his stride. Staring vaguely ahead, his heart thumping. "Are we what?"

"On opposite sides?"

"Heaven and Hell?"

"You and me."

Crowley's breath caught as Aziraphale moved to stand directly in front of him. Aziraphale didn't do anything directly. "I don't know what you're saying, angel." Crowley lied, tasting it. "Neither of us are who we used to be. I don't know you the way I thought I did."

A fraction of hurt flashed through blue eyes before they cleared. Aziraphale stepped back, allowing Crowley to continue. "It seemed so much easier back then, war forces changes in us all. For the better and the worst. Adam didn't mean to end the world and I believe that with time he might be able to heal it. Crowley, you know this better than I do. If Hell found out- if they found _him_ they wouldn't just be angry. They'd destroy Adam."

"How terrible."

"Crowley! Thats really not fair."

"What is?"

Aziraphale was in front of him again, deeply cross and desperate. "Just take a look around. See what is still possible. What can still be fought for and achieved. I'll wait, alright? Come back to me when you're ready. We'll talk it through."

"And if I want to go back to Hell?"

"I'll settle for keeping Tadfield a secret. I'll go back with you."

Crowley stared at Aziraphale, looking all the brighter in the sunlight. Angelic and all good.  
"You could just run away, or dowse me in holy water. The advantage here is yours, maybe you should take it."

" _Really-_ "

"Save yourself, save them. It's the only way to be sure."

"Stop saying such things," Aziraphale all but whispered. He was tired, they were both incredibly tired. "This war has gone on for far too long. It doesn't need to stand between us, not anymore." Aziraphale moved into Crowley, placed his arms around the demon, his demon and breathed. "I don't want to go back, I don't want you to go back. Stay. Just stay."

Crowley wrapped his arms around Aziraphale, buried his head into Aziraphale's hair. Instead of comfort, Aziraphale sensed the finality of the gesture. "You're slipping away." Aziraphale shivered. "Dearest, a life without you- I've lived it. I've loved and I've lost you and I just cannot do it all again. Please, let this be different. Let's do it right."

"I just- I need time to think angel."

Aziraphale stepped back, fixing his attire in his absent habitual way. "Yes, of course. Take all the time you need. I'll be here."

Crowley glanced up at the sky, estimating. "Meet back here at sunset?"

Aziraphale nodded and smiled wide.

Forcing the feeling of a smile to his face Crowley nodded and began the difficult first steps away from Aziraphale. The world and its edges were pressing in and there was nothing that would stop it now. 

...

Hours later Crowley continued to kick about the cobbled streets. Looking completely out of time and place. He had been urging all life to stay well out of his way. If some fearful idiot tried to use holy water on him now they'd regret it tenfold. 

His thoughts turned to the little moments. When an angel and a demon had managed inexplicably to make each other smile. Tentative times. He remembered the bandstand. The look on Aziraphale's face, he could still hear the words _'it's over!'_ echoing in his mind. The next time saw Aziraphale the world had burned and his oldest friend was deeply afraid. 

What had happened to all of that? That version of himself? The one that just didn't give a damn and was finally good at his job. It was all just crumbling away. 

He couldn't even get a wahoo if he wanted to. 

Crowley soon found himself toeing the line, at the very edge of Tadfield's barrier. The illusion of concealment was so strong he counted his steps as he moved outside of it. From just one step out he could see nothing, could sense _nothing_.

Were there other places out there in the world, there but not? Maybe there was more magic on Earth than anyone had ever imagined. Or perhaps _She_ was still out there somewhere, working in mysterious ways and telling nobody a bloody thing about it.

Crowley considered, with this information he'd be Hell's hero. Redeemed. Heck, he'd probably get promoted. He could just about run Hell. An idea, a temptation that had always warmed his veins. 

It would be so easy, with a simple snap of his fingers he could catch Aziraphale off guard. Take them back to Hell and stand in front of the rest of the Dark Council as a success. That is what a true demon would do. One without conflict or doubt. Doubt had done him harm before and here it was, rearing it's ugly head once again. It was supposed to be straight forward. Do bad, be bad. 

Crowley stepped past the invisible barrier. Back inside of it again. So amused that it didn't just disintegrate him on the spot. An oversight really. 

A shudder ran through Crowley, sharp and sudden.

A summons. 

It wasn't Hell and it wasn't even Aziraphale.

_Adam._

As Crowley identified the source he knew at that moment they were thinking of each other. An awareness, a private connection that called out in the dark, to the dark. 

Crowley's long legs followed the stretching shadows of the setting sun. Observing Hogback Woods ahead with interest. It was Adam's territory. His personal creation. Paradise.

It wasn't exactly Eden but it wasn't bad. 

With one glance back towards the town Crowley could picture Aziraphale waiting. Hands folded and anxious. Smiling politely at passers-by and waving away any complicated questions.

Regardless Crowley entered the woods.

He was going to be late. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back in the saddle again 🤠

Aziraphale was waiting. Sitting dutifully on a lovely little bench overlooking the town square. Much to the annoyance of Mr R. P. Tyler (Chairman of the Residents' Association), who disliked anyone loitering no matter how justified or occult they just so happened to be. 

But it was good. It was normal. So much had happened and yet glancing out everything was the same. The people had changed, the world had changed but Tadfield endured. 

The twilight over the town should have been a comforting sight. Aziraphale had always enjoyed the transitional times of the day. But this twilight was cold, almost foreboding in nature.

Crowley was late. True that there was some sort of stereotype that angels were always on time and that demons were compulsively late.

It was the fashionable thing these days and Crowley was if nothing else, fashionable. But it wasn't like that between them. For each other, they were on time. A courtesy that had extended throughout the centuries. 

So now the same obsessive thought circulated around Aziraphale's brian like water down a drain.

Crowley was late.

...

"I'm not sure who's worse," Adam said finally. Breaking the awkward stretching silence. Sitting upon his throne Adam was a mix of contradictions. Still so obviously a child and yet utterly world-wise. He understood things on a level the creator herself still strived to comprehend.

"So which is it? Who's worse? You or me?"

Dog barked, one small woof. A slight wag to his little twitching tail.

Crowley cracked his slickest smile. "Depends on who's keeping score. But to save us both some time I'll just vote for myself."

Adam made a boyish expression. "But I ended the world."

Crowley huffed a chuckle, "by accident. Through ignorance with devilish and divine _influence_. You didn't know what you were doing."

"Did you?"

The kid had him there. But it was different and Crowley felt compelled to get that across.  
"I understood the implications of my actions and I did it anyway. That makes me Mr Nasty."

Adam's eyes flashed. "So you admit you're guilty? Thats not very demon-like."

Crowley gave a snort, stuffing his hands in his impossibly tight trouser pockets. "So I've been told. Look, kid-"

"Adam."

"Riiight. Adam. If you're going to smite me go for it. I'm not here to argue."

Adam tilted his head in that curious, knowing way. "Aziraphale is waiting for you."

"Yes'ss."

"He's always doing that you know," Adam said. Nodding. "Waiting for you."

"How do you even-"

"I know. I just... know things. Even when he was with us, teaching me he was thinking of you."

Crowley felt distinctly like an ant in the presence of a grumpy giant. He swallowed fast, he swallowed hard.

"Aziraphale disappeared because of you."

And there it was. The inconvenient truth. The consequences to his own actions.

"I took him to Hell."

The atmosphere charged with static, evidence of great annoyance. The woodland air grew cold, invaded by a biting, whipping wind. Adam was absolutely still. "Why?"

"Because I wanted to."

_"Why?"_

"Because I needed him," Crowley confessed. "He has always been a splash of sunlight in the dark. He's the only person in this universe that makes me feel alive." Crowley chuckled at Adam's condemnation.  
  
"I did what I had to do for them," he gestured down, towards Hell and it's demons. "Never once did I forget about _him_. I stole Aziraphale away because I'm selfish and broken and all kinds of bad. He's the only one who ever saw me, saw something worthwhile, worth saving. It's as simple and shitty as that."

"Do you want to be saved?" Adam asked. His voice taking on an unnatural edge. There was something dangerous there. An eagerness, not altogether good, burning bright within. Crowley understood it all too well. Adam was fighting the same battles, waging war against those natural given impulses. Destruction and creation came hand in hand. 

"Saved or destroyed. I'm not fussy." Crowley did not see the irony in his own words, for he was the fussiest demon to ever fuss. "Don't fancy either option really. I am what I am and it is how it is. Whatever happens here today, tomorrow or a hundred years from now will be deserved. Who am I to go against the universe? It's about time it started righting some wrongs."

"If I hurt you it would be like hurting Aziraphale too," Adam reasoned. As if that was the only deterrent. "I'd never do anything to make him sad."

Crowley couldn't sense it exactly but he could guess well enough. Admiration was obvious, Adam adored the angel. It just went to prove that anybody with even the smallest iota of sense fell in love with Aziraphale. In one way or another. 

"He taught you how to control it didn't he?" Crowley ventured easily. Aziraphale wasn't like other angels, he genially tried to do some good. Even if it was in small, unobtrusive ways. "He helped to calm the darkness swirling inside. When it was eating away at your soul. You're still afraid of it but it doesn't control you." Crowley couldn't help but smile with pride. "Not anymore."

"He helped me. When no one else could. Aziraphale came and he... he just stopped it." Adam didn't understand it all, the dynamics but it had worked all the same. Together they had found a balance but it hadn't stopped the world from burning. Or the War from coming. There was no undoing _that_. 

"You're a bit broken," Adam suddenly said. A bolt out of the blue. He squinted his eyes as if to be sure. "It's in your aura, yours isn't all dark. It's got bits of colour but it's mashed together." 

"You can see aura's?"

"Anathema taught me. I can see ley lines to." 

Crowley shifted, somewhat at a loss. "That's neat. I can't."

"Aziraphale's is really bright but it also has colours. Angels and demons don't have colours you know. You guys are unique. Do you want to know what's really weird?" Adam didn't particularly pause for an answer. "You two have the same colours."

"Huh," Crowley shifted again. His thoughts flying off in different directions. Had something gone wrong? Or right? Depending on how you looked at it. Were they created like that from the start of had they somehow changed along the way?

"Do you love him?"

Crowley spluttered, making a less than articulate sound. "Ngk."

"Well, I know you do and he really loves you."

Crowley had to catch himself from making another ridiculous sound. So far from cool. 

"It's just like me and Dog here. Sometimes he doesn't listen and does bad things but he's not all bad. He wants to be good and he loves me and I love him. So as long as we both try hard and really respect each other it'll be okay. We can always work things out. That's what I think."

Crowley didn't really appreciate being bundled into the role of a mongrel. Especially not a cuddly cupcake-sized Hell Hound. But there were a few good points in there somewhere. "I can't just undo what I've done and I sure as heaven can't take it back."

"Then do better."

"What?"  
  
"Every day, do better. Make every day a good day. Maybe, if you're really lucky you can redeem yourself and finally be happy. It'll take a lot of work though, I can tell. You're a... whole bunch of words I'm not allowed to use. But if you ever hurt Aziraphale again I will find you and I will use all the powers at my disposal to destroy you in the most bloody, barbaric way ever imaginable." Adam smiled all teeth. "Okay?" 

Crowley nodded, his glasses slipping slightly down his nose. "Sounds fair." He glanced back the way he came, it was truly getting dark now and Aziraphale was waiting. 

"Actually there's this one other thing..."

Turning back Crowley was surprised to find a genuine look of guilt upon Adam's face. "It's something that Aziraphale can't help me with."

It hadn't been all that long ago that Crowley had been a Godfather. To the wrong child admittedly but here was an opportunity to try again. To take that first step towards well-rounded redemption. A cause that wasn't purely about him or Aziraphale.

"I'm listening."

It was Adam's turn to fidget, pressing importance rolled off him in waves. "I have this idea..."

...

Night had come and Aziraphale was _still_ waiting.

He could, of course, get up and go find Crowley. But it was symbolic. The demon had to find his way back, or more precisely he needed to choose which way he wanted to go. 

Aziraphale prayed, not out of faith. But out of hope.

Not ten minutes before he had politely declined Anathema's invite to join her and her young gentleman for dinner at Jasmine Cottage. He wanted to wait, even if he did get glances. As if he had been jilted, it wasn't like Crowley was leaving him standing at the altar.

Within the blink of an eye, Aziraphale's patience stuttered out and died. Crowley's persistent presence vanished, he was gone. Just like that.

Crowley had made his decision.

Aziraphale sat there in silence, a crushing grip on his heart. He had really believed, with every essence of his being he had hoped. There was no future, not anymore. There was only the here and now.

Crowley wasn't coming, it was over. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The End is Nigh.
> 
> Open thine eyes and rede, for thy cocoa doth grow cold...

With her unrivalled sixth sense, Anathema Device had decided to check upon Aziraphale again. Just once more. It was dark out when she returned to the town square with Newt valiantly by her side. He still insisted that bad things happened after dark and that it was dangerous for anyone to be out alone.

So together they found Aziraphale, an all-powerful being by comparison reduced to silent tears. Without words, Anathema enveloped the angel in an embrace. They had never been overly close but her compassion pushed through. Aziraphale slumped against her, taking a shaky breath that he had been holding for hours.

...

By the morning light, the town was talking. Adam had gone missing, right around the time that Crowley had left. Speculation and accusation flung and flew.

"So the shady snake took him!" Pepper snapped, sitting crossly within the gathering at Jasmine Cottage. She stared at the rest of them. Newt, Anathema, Aziraphale, Sergeant Shadwell, Madam Tracy, Brian and Wensleydale. "We never should have trusted him! He's kidnapped Adam!"

"Oh aye!" Agreed Sergeant Shadwell. "Demons are devious! Ye' canny trust a demon."

"But Adam's not..." Newt fumbled over his words. Desperate not to cause offence. "Adam's not completely ordinary. Could Crowley really just take him away?"

Madam Tracy nodded, pursing her painted lips. "He seemed nice enough. Quite a dashing young man."

Shadwell snorted. "He's an ancient demon from the pit woman. Don't be fooled by a fine face, he was corrupting in the hanging Gardens of Babylon!"  
  
Wensleydale joined the chaos with his usual positive thinking. "But perhaps for a demon that's young."

Brian agreed, "he didn't look that old to me."

"Would you all shut up!" Pepper cut in briskly. "I'm trying to tell you things. He's a bad guy!"

"Aye but good looking enough to be excused apparently," Sergeant Shadwell cut in again. Sitting in a great hump, grumpier than he had ever been.

Madam Tracy couldn't help but roll her eyes, laying her hand on Shadwell's arm. "I was only saying-"

"Yer entranced! It's demonic doing!"

"This is all getting off-topic," Anathema announced. Firm but fair. Walking across the room to push a steaming cup of cocoa into Aziraphale's hands. He hadn't said a single word. 

"The question is what are we going to do?" Anathema seated herself next to Newt, smoothing her dress in one go. "We don't know what really happened. But we have to do something soon. The barrier around Tadfield won't last long without Adam. Even if Aziraphale and I try to maintain it we can only do so much."

"Adam could be in trouble," Pepper preached. "We have to save him. I don't care how many demons I have to kill."

Shadwell was already running through his artillery for the mission. The thunder gun could come in handy. 

"I'll go."

Everyone looked at Aziraphale. His eyes were not quite as bright as they all remembered, shades of soft grey instead of brilliant blue. Surly all just trick of the light. "I'll go, find out what's going on."

Sergeant Shadwell stood, clapping his right hand patriotically over his chest. "Then we shall go with yer."

Aziraphale cupped the coca calmly. "Humans don't belong in Hell."

"Neither do Angel's laddie, ya' canny go it alone."

Aziraphale produced a faint smile, not really looking at anyone. "I'll make do. Trust me when I say that if you accompanied me down there your eyes would pop, your blood would boil and the air would burn when you breathed. I know my way around, I'll be fine."

The statement didn't sound like a lie but everyone knew that the odds were against Aziraphale. 

"Adam might not be in Hell," Anathema ventured. Reluctant to risk Adam but outright against condemning Aziraphale to Hell. "If Crowley is down there then..."

"Then I will do what I have to do."

Anathema frowned, nothing could be harder for Aziraphale to achieve and yet he meant every word. 

He'd go down to Hell, he'd find Adam, he'd fight Crowley and every other demon and then. Then he'd probably die miserably for the effort. 

Not for the first time Anathema wished she had a prophecy to guide her. Too bad that they ended right along with the rest of the world. 

... 

After the gathering had ended it was Sergeant Shadwell who swooped in stiffly at the end. Catching Aziraphale by the front door. He held out his hand. "You take this, it'll protect yer against evil."

Aziraphale opened his hand and watched as a small pin (presumably a Witchfinder one) landed in his palm. "Thank you."

He'd take it, along with his flaming sword which honestly seemed the more practical choice of the two. He always knew where it was these days. Summoning was such a great trick after all. 

"Good luck," Sergeant Shadwell clapped the Angel swiftly on the shoulder. "Ya' great Southern Pansy."

...

It took hours and hours on foot to reach the outskirts of London. Or what was left of London, a smouldering ruin of a fine city. Aziraphale was saving his strength for what was to come. A reasonable thought in a futile fight. So standing there Aziraphale gazed at the sad ruins of home. He'd seen civilisations rise and fall and yet somehow watching London burn had been personal. Perhaps because it wasn't the human's fault this time around. It was his, the ethereal and the occult. 

As soon as he stepped over into London something spilt out of the smoke of ever-burning fire. It materialised into the familiar shape of an old enemy. 

"Hello, Hastur."

"I knew you'd come. Good to see you chasing after Crowley for a change." Hastur loomed, menacing and tall. "If that is what you're doing?"

The electrons in Aziraphale's brain fired off. "Have you lost him?"

Something went solid and still in Hastur. "The Fallen do not lose things. But I can see that he's not with you. Where is he?"

"Haven't got a clue old boy. I was rather hoping that you could tell me. Perhaps point me in the right direction."

Hastur started to circle. "He's fine-tuned to you. That makes it easy. I'll just have to hurt you until he shows up."

"He won't."

"Oh but he will," Hastur smiled. Tilting his head and imagining all the ways he could elicit the most terrible suffering. "When the Fox hears the Rabbit scream he comes a-runnin', but not normally to help."

...

"Where are we?" Adam asked. Fascinated by the gloom and feeling of empty air and infinite space.

"The divide."

"Huh?"

Crowley slowed to a stop. Watching Adam. "This is where we all used to report in." He pointed up ahead. "Over there one escalator went up to Heaven and the other went down to-"

"Hell." Adam supplied. Staring as if he could still see it, just as it once was.

"Yes, exactly. This place broke down during the war. Most just forgot about it because it's a strange place. Here but not. But it connects Heaven and Hell to Earth. If we destroy it completely we can cancel out the connection."

Adam's boyish face pinched. "But you guys can travel without it, right? Angels and Demons. You don't need this place. You said so yourself."

"You wanted a way to stop it all, didn't you? That was your idea. This is mine. With enough power, we can tear the three places apart again. Starting here and letting it spread all around the world. If there is no link left then nobody can go anywhere. Everyone will just have to stay where they are."

Adam was impressed, he knew that Crowley was creative. He'd heard Aziraphale's stories. "Do we have enough power to do that? I'm not sure that I can-"

"I'll start it off, show you how it goes and then you have to take it from there."

Sticking out his hand expectantly Adam started up at Crowley. "Can you take some of my power and use it as your own?"

Crowley eyed Adam's hand. "You'll need it all."

"And you'll need more than you actually have. I can tell you know," Adam said firmly. "Right now what you have isn't enough and I need you as much as you need me." The half-pint Hell Hound barked and jumped.

Grabbing the hand of the Antichrist Crowley frowned. "Just do me a favour. When this is all over. If it works out. Look after Aziraphale for me. Tell him that, well just maybe mention that I finally did the right thing."

Together they shook and energy burned bright between them. Crowley couldn't help but smile. Adam's power was satanic in nature and yet nurtured with love, with humanity. With a good bit of angelic influence thrown into the mix as well.

In a quick rush, Adam pressed into Crowley and hugged him tightly. "Tell himself yourself. There's still some time. He's coming here." Adam grinned up at Crowley. "He's not waiting around for you anymore."

...

Aziraphale's flaming sword burst into being. He held it tight and felt only resignation. 

Hastur laughed, madness in his empty eyes. "You're not going to use that. I've read your file, short and boring. Did you do anything on Earth that was worthwhile? Aside from being Crowley's little chew toy."

Hastur slipped on a serendipitous smile as he stalked closer. "Or was he yours? It really wouldn't surprise me, he always was _pathetic_. Crawling around after you, being _soft_. Being _nice_. All just to please you. Stupid little snake."

Aziraphale steadied his stance. "Jealousy is highly identifiable, even to a simple angel like me."

"I'm not jealous!"

"Oh but you most certainly are." Aziraphale's eyes were bright clear and clever. "And it's quite alright really. He is better at everything, isn't he? Better looking, smarter, more successful and charming. Why Crowley doesn't even have to try, whereas you..." Flashing a look of pure pity Aziraphale went on. "You've had to scrape and struggle and to what end? Everybody hates you. You've achieved almost nothing. And thats exactly what you are Hatur. Nothing."

The demon lunged and although Aziraphale had expected it the fury behind the force was still surprising. Nothing like a little rage to make a monster rabid. He swung his sword and caught the demon a glancing blow before Hell descended. His sword clattered just out of reach as Aziraphale hit the ground. There was something rather disgusting about getting pinned down by Hastur. A revulsion rippled through Aziraphale as he grit his teeth against the instinctual panic.

"I'm going to rip you apart," Hastur hissed. His shark-like eyes rolling from black to black.  
"Even if he doesn't come I'll find Crowley and I'll tell him all about this moment. I'll do it slowly, as I'm pulling out his insides. I'll make him regret ever laughing at me, thinking he's something. Thinking that he's better."

Aziraphale tried to keep the pressure above from bruising. "You'll do no such thing."

"I'm going to make him suffer. Because that's what he owes me. And it all starts right here with us."  
Hastur smiled. Watching as Aziraphale struggled to keep eye contact. "You don't like me, that's alright."  
  
Shifting both of Aziraphale's wrist up Hastur pinned them under his own large hand. With his left-hand free he caught Aziraphale's jaw in a mock caress. "You only have to do one thing for me Aziraphale Angel of the Eastern Gate."

Aziraphale's fingers twitched, straining out for his sodding sword. With Hastur bearing down no summons would work. 

"Scream for me."

Hastur's fingernails shifted into claws, puncturing Aziraphale's skin, surging deeper into his neck. Searching lazily for a jugular. It was then, in that painful, panicked moment Aziraphale remembered Shadwell's Witchfinder Pin. He'd clasped it loosely to his inner sleeve. With a quick flick of his fingers and thumb, Aziraphale snatched the pin and with every ounce of physical strength he possed, he broke free of Hastur's grip. Jamming the pin under the demons chin and dragging its sharp edges to rip at every vital vein Hastur had. 

As Hastur jerked up to stop the burst of blood Aziraphale summoned his flaming sword and swung. Hastur's head rolled and then his head right alongside his body exploded into dust.

...

Crowley was waiting. After sending Adam and Dog on their way with the plan in place. He leaned against the darkness he felt a swell of nerves and excitement as his angel appeared. Aziraphale stumbled into the ruined hall were used to report up to head office. A gigantic mass of rubble blocked the escalator starting from three steps up. The floor, however, was translucent. Looking down Aziraphale saw red.

"You absolute bastard!"

Crowley swiped the glasses from his eyes and smiled. Not afraid to be seen by Aziraphale. But what he saw caused gut-wrenching concern. "What the hell happen to you?"

Looking a bit of a state Aziraphale made an indignant sound. His cream suit covered in all kinds of blood. "What happened to me? What happened to you!?!"

"Who hurt-"

"Hastur happened to be in my way." Aziraphale frowned, flexing his empty hands. "His friend came out of nowhere."

Crowley's eyebrows arched up. "Ligur."

"Didn't quite catch his name," Aziraphale vainly tried to get the blood spots from his hair. At least some of the blood was his. There was no hiding it. Demon blood was a few shades darker than Angel blood. 

"It doesn't matter now," Aziraphale sighed. "They're dead. I discorporated them. They won't be back."

Curiosity rolled off of Crowley. "How?"

"I removed Hastur's head from his body. I impaled Ligur. It's not important!"

"That's not important?" Shocked Crowley wanted to break the divide. To touch the marks that Hastur had left behind. "Since when do you kill demons?"

"Since the bloody war started Crowley. I tried to tell you before. I had no choice he was trying to kill me, he was looking for you. I don't have to defend my actions-"

"Angel," Crowley interpreted softly. "Way ta' go."

Aziraphale tried to talk but no words left his lips. Slowly he sank down to his knees. Exhausted.

"Whatever happened, whatever you did was well deserved."

Brushing back his curls with tight fingers Aziraphale nodded. "Where's Adam?"

"Safe. He's not with me. This was his idea. I just helped him along. We're going to seal off Hell and Heaven once and for all."

"That's impossible."

"It's not," Crowley tapped the fake glass ceiling which Aziraphale now sat upon. Crowley was just underneath by sheer will alone. He'd raised the ground to get closer. "It's going to work. Humanity will be safe, you'll be safe."

Aziraphale fumbled, Crowley always could flatline his thoughts. Placing both of his palms against the invisible divide Aziraphale spread his fingers feeling something similar to glass. Funny how a thing so fine and barely even there was powerful enough to separate them both. "I waited for you."

"I know, I'm sorry. But if I had stopped to tell you then we would have argued. It's really selfish but I want to do this."

"But you don't have to do anything Crowley," Aziraphale insisted. Watching the demon through a slight ripple effect. "You don't have to prove anything more to me. Certainly not like this."

Staring up at his oldest friend and only love Crowley laughed a little. It was poetic. Aziraphale above him, unreachable in a place where the light was. He had spent so long thinking that if Aziraphale fell then they'd be equal, that the universe would stop trying to tear them apart. That their feelings would be justified and life would leave them the hell alone. It didn't work like that. Of course. But it had been a dream all the same.

"It's a good plan angel. Adam is a clever kid. You did a great job showing him the ropes."

"Crowley this won't just kill you! It'll destroy you entirely. There will be nothing left, no coming back." Aziraphale shuddered, slumping down miserably. "You can't do this. It's too dangerous. We can find another way."

Attempting to be causal Crowley stuffed his hands into his pockets. "There isn't any time. Hell will find you and Adam and everyone else sooner or later. Who knows what Heaven is doing. This is the one time I can make a real difference." Stretching up Crowley pressed his hand flat against the divide. "Let me be the good guy for once. I've always wanted to be a hero."

Aziraphale placed his hand against Crowley's disappointed by the cold of the divide.

"Heroes die," Aziraphale whispered. Fighting back the warm water in his eyes. "You can't die. Not now."

"It's going to be alright angel. I promise."

"Don't do this."

"It was good getting to see you again. Go find Adam. He's going to need you around."

"Crowley," Aziraphale begged. Baring his inner soul. "Please don't leave me."

There was a frown fighting with Crowley's smile. "You're stronger than Heaven and Hell combined. You've got good people waiting for you. You're going to be okay."

"Don't-"

"It'll just take time."

"Fuck you!"

Crowley blinked, bewildered. "What?"

"I said fuck you!" repeated Aziraphale. Righteously pissed. "You evil, selfish bastard of a fiend! I need you.  
I love you! This isn't fair."

"No," Crowley agreed softly. "It isn't but if anyone has to do this job it's me. You know it. You must feel it. Even you can't close Hell but thanks to you Adam is a bit of both. Hell is a part of me. I can do this. It's what we always wanted, to be safe. To be able to be ourselves."

Aziraphale started to cry and Crowley copied. Great wet trails dripping down his face.  
"Go back to your books angel. Make another home, always leave a space for me. Just like you did before."  
  
The connection between worlds wavered. Time was running out.

"Aziraphale," Crowley called, capturing full attention. "Everything was better and brighter when you were around. It made existing worthwhile."

Struggling to breathe Aziraphale braved the moment if there ever was a time to engage emotionally it was now. "It has always been us," he vowed. "It has always been you." 

Warm and wonderful Crowley smiled with open happiness. "I'm yours, angel. Always have been, always will be."

Aziraphale pressed himself desperately down, "this isn't goodbye! Crowley please-"

The connection cut.

Anthony J. Crowley stared up at darkness. Aziraphale stared down at it. Neither could see or sense each other.

It had begun.

Sensing Adam suddenly Crowley threw up his hands and grinned. The power poured forth and he could hear Hell coming for him. Just as Adam could hear his false father screaming at him from the bowels of the earth.

They were fucking it up in style. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dear friends, it's been a grand journey. I hope you have enjoyed it as much as I have. 
> 
> Let's get down to business. One last time.

Ten years. 

It had been ten years since Adam and Crowley had successfully sealed off Heaven and Hell. There were no more stirrings, no more odd and ominous scents of sulfur or ozone. The flames went out and those who had survived across the globe emerged from hiding. They did what humans had always done, they rebuilt. They tried. Attempted to move on.

So much had happened. Nature had worked faster than human hands. More than half the world was green. Not unlike it once was, back when Eden was young and the animals had not been named.

But at the moment on the end. Back before the seal was in place Satan had burned his way through the earth in the wildest of furies. Reaching for Adam, screaming his sin. When his father entered the same space as Crowley Adam had hesitated. Before his doubts could fully form Crowley finished it. He cut the connection and he used the last of his life to do it.

Adam didn't tell Aziraphale. He didn't need to, the look on his mentors bloodied face said everything.

Absolute, inconsolable _devastation_.

It all came at a cost. 

...

"Are you sure that he wants to see us?" Pepper asked. Her long red scarf fluttering in the coastal wind. She was a woman now, attractive as she was bold. 

"Of course," Adam rolled his eyes. Smiling wildly as he marched on ahead. Aziraphale might have become distant but he was still a kind and helpful soul, always happy to see the Them.

Being in their twenties in a post-apocalyptic world had its ups and downs. Hogback Wood was bigger than it had been before and they were free of dead-end, low paying jobs. Everybody had to pitch in when needed. Wensleydale however still found his way in charted accountancy. It was only a matter of time.

"Do you think he likes it?" Brain asked, his funny features now edging towards agreeable. "Living out here all on his own."

"Not everyone wants to live in Tadfeild," Pepper hit back. Pulling her coat tighter as the coastal winds refused to let up. "It would be nice to not have nosey neighbours." She had considered moving but the thought of leaving her family and the boys behind always proved too much.

"It just seems a little lonely," murmured Brian. 

"It's lovely though," said Wensleydale. Smiling as he took in the scenery. He had a particular fondness for the ocean. Something was soothing about it. A constant natural noise that distracted the senses. 

"Don't say any of this when we get there," Adam stated. His voice still pleasant but deeper, tinged with a certain kind of knowing. He stopped to give the Them a good looking at.

"Only good things. Be happy. Be funny!" Dog barked, he hadn't aged. Excited he whirled in a circle and lept into the air. 

The Them nodded in unison. They would bring about noise and laughter no matter what. 

...

Aziraphale could no longer sense when someone was coming. So he jumped when his doorbell chimed. Setting his book in his lap Aziraphale took a moment to compose himself. With a little more effort than an angel should need he lifted from his seat and moved to the door. Opening it with a smile. 

"You could always just let yourselves in- _oh_." 

Aziraphale froze, his bottom lip threatened to tremble. "Oh my."

"Hello, Angel."

Those were the two words Crowley managed before Aziraphale fainted dead away. Not quite managing to make it to the floor. 

...

Waking to the soft crackle of his homely fire sometime later Aziraphale shifted beneath his tartan blanket. Comfortable in his plush chair. Humming he rubbed at the sleep in his eyes. He'd been having one of those dreams again. So often he was back in his bookshop in Soho with Crowley. Drinking wine and arguing about the merits of mammals.

"You had me a bit worried there."

Aziraphale gripped his armrest terribly tight. Turning his head towards a seat which was always empty. Only it wasn't empty...

"I'm dreaming," Aziraphale dared to murmur. Frustration creasing his brow. He watched, perplexed as his _dream_ reached over and pinched him. "Good Lord!"

"Not exactly," Crowley grinned, retreating quickly. Very unsure of himself. "I know this must be a bit of a shock so just take it easy. Take as much time as you need. I didn't mean to scare you. I just wanted to see you."

"Are you real?" Aziraphale whispered. His hopeless heart beating hard. "It's not a trick or a hallucination?"

"Tricks and hallucinations don't pinch people, angel." Crowley lent carefully forward. "I'm real. I'm really here."

"How?"

"Did you know that snakes hibernate? I've been asleep for a very long time."

Aziraphale trembled, "I don't understand. You died, you did- _I felt it_."

"I'm not saying that I didn't. I was broken down into an atom. Probably less than that. I got _smashed_ to pieces. Satan was not happy but he wasn't scrupulous, you know?" Crowley sat back.

"That's always been his problem, all power. No brains. I, on the other hand, have always been _resilient_. I had a little bit left, thanks to Adam and his super go-go juice. Just enough energy to preserve my being. It took ages to reform, to even remember. I reverted to my serpent form. It was instinctual really. I slept for years as just _becoming_ was exhausting." Crowley spread out his hands. "I've been digging and crawling my way through the salt of the earth back to you and well... here I am."

Crowley didn't have a speck of dirt on him. He looked precisely as he always had. Smartly dressed in stylised black, perfect hair and the same animated expressions. Aziraphale didn't doubt any of it. Only able to note one visible difference in Crowley. He wasn't wearing his sunglasses, his eyes were no longer bright yellow. Instead, they were a subtle sort of gold. 

"But the _connection_ ," Aziraphale fussed. "It was destroyed."

"Yeah well about that. It was and still is. I've made sure. But because I connected with Adam it left something between us. A way back which I followed. I don't think he knows, I barely understand it myself."

Hand moving to clutch at his chest Aziraphale tried to process. "It's been ten years!"

Crowley frowned, "has it been that long?"

Aziraphale laughed with a trill, "it's been no holiday!"

"Ten years isn't that long for us."

"It was for me," Aziraphale said seriously. "Longer than you can possibly imagine. I've seen you so often, in that place. Between asleep and awake? I've seen you there."  
  
Crowley smiled patiently, he was deeply moved. But defiantly not dead. He stayed completely silent. Aziraphale had not finished.

"Sometimes at the door or by the window, out in the garden or in that chair." Aziraphale gestured to the seat he was in. "There you would be."

Crowley let his eyes leave Aziraphale. Landing on an item of furniture that was entirely out of place and was just so him. "You left a space for me."

"Couldn't avoid it, dear boy. How could I dishonour a last request?"

Crowley got up slowly. Moved over and knelt humbly before Aziraphale. "I'm sorry, I'd like to spend eternity making it up to you. If you'll still have me?" Crowley hesitated, tension rolled off of him.  
"I know I don't deserve it but do you... still want me?"

Aziraphale made a sound that he had _never_ made. Collapsing into waiting arms, crying. Bitterly happy and utterly overwhelmed. Together an angel and a demon sank down to the floor. Making a mess with each other.

...

Now that the kettle was boiling and the angel was making tea Crowley allowed himself to settle. Watching his former adversary potter about like old times Crowley couldn't help but observe a change. It was subtle but it was definitely there. Aziraphale looked... different. A few shades softer, as if his brilliant light, white and gold were swapped for pale, pastel colours. He also looked ever so slightly... older.

Crowley swallowed, his hand hovered in the air as he reached out to touch Aziraphale.  
"There weren't any consequences for you? It did work didn't it? Sealing off Heaven and Hell, everything else..."  
  
Aziraphale was still for a moment. Fussing forgotten. He set the mugs carefully down on his kitchen counter. The open ocean stretching out beyond the old fashioned bay window.

"Ask me."

He turned around, walking steadily. Reaching Crowley halfway Aziraphale waited.  
  
The demon struggled to ask, "did you fall?"

Chuckling Aziraphale effected a close approximation to a shrug. "Perhaps, I'm not quite sure. You see when it happened I... _well-_ " Aziraphale coloured. "I lost a bit of faith."

"When you say a bit of faith..."

"Most of it," Aziraphale confessed quietly. "More or less." He fidgeted, not confident enough to meet Crowley's eyes. "If I recall correctly you wanted something like this a long time ago."

"Well yeah," the demon joked. "But wanting something and getting it are two different things."

Aziraphale's soft grey eyes flicked back up in distress. "You're disappointed?" He began to babble, "well I really didn't think that you would ever see me this way. I mean I'm not entirely sure what happened or what I am so-"

"Angel."

"I might _not_ be," Aziraphale whispered feverishly, his fingers folded tight together. 

Crowley leaned in, gathering Aziraphale into his arms. He pressed their foreheads together.  
"You aren't any less for it. Whatever it is. It doesn't matter. Not to me. You could be an aardvark and you'd still be you."

Fear filtered slowly out of Aziraphale's scent, "really Crowley. An aardvark?"

"Labels, we don't need them anymore. You're just you, I'm just me. It's never been better."

Crowley drew in a long breath, scenting Aziraphale. What he got was the failure scent of old books and warm chocolate cocoa.

That hadn't changed.

"I've missed you."

"Well, I must warn you," Aziraphale mumbled into Crowley's chest as the hug continued. "That I have gotten quite reclusive and have become most peculiar."

"Kids will tell it to you like it is."

"Crowley," Aziraphale pulled back, flashing a put upon frown. "They are in their twenties."

"Still kids," Crowley grinned, grabbing Aziraphale by his familiar lapels and pulling him close. "You know that they are waiting outside right?"

"Of course." Aziraphale breathed, smiling for all he was worth. "I do believe," his eyes twinkled in a terrible, delighted way. "That they are watching through the window."

"Then let's give them a show, you know. Something to give them their own ideas or to scar them forever. It works either way."

"You are incorrigible." Their lips brushed, Aziraphale pushed up ever so slightly onto his tiptoes.  
"Is this the part where we seal it with a kiss?"

Crowley grinned, holding Aziraphale with nothing but adoration and love. "No Angel. This is the part where we get to live happily ever after."

"A line lifted right out of a children's fairytale," Aziraphale smiled. It wasn't Keats, Brontë or Austen but it was perfect. Simply because it was Crowley. Arching up he claimed the first kiss of many.  
  
"It's all a bit ineffable really."

"Oh no, don't start that off again!" Crowley huffed, watching Aziraphale laugh and becoming helpless to resist. With a bunch of twenty-year-olds whooping and cheering in the background. 

Eternity was a promise rather than a prison. A thousand summers days, long cosy winter nights. A chance to live, to laugh and cry. To try everything else in between. All of it. That was the future.   
  
As it turned out.  
The best ending was no end at all. 


End file.
